


The Case of the Goose Lake Monster: A Stage Fright Sequel

by i_am_a_cliche



Series: The Week After [2]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Stage Fright (2014)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scenes, Scooby doo stage fright, stage fright sequel, the week after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 120,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_cliche/pseuds/i_am_a_cliche
Summary: A week after the events in Stage Fright, Mystery Inc. find themselves embroiled in the mystery of the Goose Lake Monster terrorizing civilians in Goose Lake, Michigan. Meanwhile, Fred and Daphne struggle with how to address the kiss they shared on Talent Star. Will the gang be able to solve the case, and will Daphne and Fred ever address their feelings for each other? Rated T.
Relationships: Daphne Blake/Fred Jones
Series: The Week After [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918420
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author Note: Hi everyone! As you may know, I am busy working on my other series, The Week After, in which I was writing a series of one-shots set about a week after the conclusion of various Scooby Doo movies and television episodes. Stage Fright was always intended to follow my first one-shot in that series, but as I spent the last week writing the Stage Fright chapter, the fic increasingly became longer and more nuanced to the point where it necessitated a stand-alone, multi-chapter fic. Therefore, this fic is also set a week after the end of Stage Fright and it follows the premise of my other series, but since it is definitely not a one-shot, I'll publish this one here as a separate fic. I'll be uploading this one every four to seven days, and once I finish writing this one, I'll return to my other series and focus on writing more one-shots for more movies/television episodes.
> 
> So, here are some disclaimers for this fic:
> 
> \- Do not read this fic if you wish to avoid Stage Fright spoilers. This is intended to be a resolution to some loose ends from that movie, and I am planning an entire mystery based on the one that is alluded to in the credits of that movie.  
> \- Goose Lake Music Festival is an actual, real concert that occurred in 1970 in Goose Lake, MI. I got the inspiration because I actually live in Michigan, and I learned a bit about this festival over the summer. The concert flyer described in this chapter is real (I found it on the internet), and any facts about the one from 1970 are all anecdotes I researched in writing this fic. The only caveat is that the Goose Lake revival concert that is being planned in this fic is indeed fictional and something I fabricated for the purpose of the story, as Goose Lake is now a campground only. (I couldn't pass up the opportunity to link the Goose Lake mentioned at the end of the movie with the Goose Lake in my home state, especially the interesting back story you'll learn about here!)  
> \- This fic is rated T for mentions of drug use and sex (no worries, it does not involve the characters partaking in either, just the mention of both really quickly in this chapter. I mean, we're talking about a concert in 1970, so it's bound to happen, lol)
> 
> If you've read this far, thank you for your continued interest in this story! Please leave a review if you are interested, and be sure to follow for updates! - iamacliche

The week after Mystery Incorporated hop into the Mystery Machine and peel out of Chicago after _Talent Star_ is done filming, Fred finds himself staring intensely at the road before him as he drives his friends towards their next adventure. Not long after the gang left Chicago in their rearview mirror, Velma stumbled across an article on the front page of the _XGME Gazette_ that recounted the recent appearance of the Goose Lake Monster menacing civilians, and as with any case, the gang's interest was sparked immediately. It took a few minutes to determine which Goose Lake was being haunted, as Google revealed a myriad of Goose Lakes, including one in Illinois, which would have been convenient since the gang were leaving Chicago, and another perched on the border of Oregon and California; Fred had fleetingly hoped the location in question was California for the simple fact that he was hoping for a mystery in a state that was sunny and warm. After combing through more articles online and discovering that the specific Goose Lake buzzing in the news was nestled in Michigan, a stone's throw away from Chicago, Illinois, it made perfect sense for Mystery Incorporated to make a detour on their way home in favor of unravelling yet another mystery.

As the Mystery Machine coasts down the freeway, Fred is hyper-aware of the tension crackling in the van; the atmosphere sizzles and snaps in the same oppressive manner as the air just before a thunderstorm. It's not that the gang have hardly spoken throughout the duration of the ride; Shaggy and Scooby talk incessantly about video games and their favorite snacks, and they've speculated on what kind of food awaits them once they arrive in Goose Lake. Velma, meanwhile, is preoccupied with researching as much as she can about this case and the geography of Michigan and the surrounding city of Jackson so she can have some knowledge in her back pocket before they even arrive, and the sound of her fingers clacking against the laptop keyboard twinkle throughout the van for the past several days. No, what makes this trip so tense is the fact that Daphne and Fred have hardly exchanged more than a few words since the gang pulled away from the gas station located on the fringes of Chicago.

Fred has replayed that moment in his head endlessly like an old black and white movie reel; he remembers the surge of courage that bubbled up inside his chest when he cleared his throat and began to speak, and as he fumbled for the right words to convey what was in his heart, Daphne began to talk at the exact same moment. When they both spoke the small space in the front seat of the Mystery Machine had felt cloistered and taut, which is the opposite of what happens when they're on stage together and their voices blend and weave together to create something harmonious and pure, and Fred flinched at his horrible timing. " _Let her go first so you don't make a fool of yourself,"_ he reprimanded himself, insisting that she speak even though she paused awkwardly and offered to allow him to talk first. After Fred deferred to Daphne, she inhaled audibly and breathed, "Okay," and Fred felt every muscle in his body flinch and the goosebumps slithered across his arm when Daphne said his name, and he couldn't help but feel as though she was inching towards something significant, something weighty, something important that would reverberate within him for a long time, but all Daphne managed was, "Fred, I like – " before Velma interjected excitedly about the Goose Lake monster. Immediately it felt as though the air had been sucked out of the van, and Fred felt his resolve swivel down the drain as he looked at Daphne, who looked sheepish and embarrassed as her eyes darted around the van nervously. Flustered that the moment had been quashed and that this opportunity to talk to Daphne about his feelings had once again slipped through his fingers, Fred immediately echoed Velma's desire to investigate the mystery at the same time as Daphne, and Fred had never felt so paradoxically relieved and dismal over the fact that he would apparently never have this conversation with Daphne.

Every time he dwells on this conversation that couldn't have lasted longer than a single minute, he pauses the film in his brain at certain moments to hone in on the scene and study the way Daphne's face shifted when Velma's voice penetrated the moment; there was a noticeable tectonic shift in the way Daphne had pivoted from nervously tugging at the hem of her dress to eagerly focusing on this brand new mystery looming before them, and Fred was unsure of whether or not he was over-analyzing Daphne's comments just before she was interrupted. " _Fred, I like – "_ She likes what – dogs? The color purple? Mysteries? Singing on stage with him in front of a studio audience of hundreds of people? _Kissing him_? The options were as limitless as the freeway stretched before the gang now, and Fred desperately wanted to ask Daphne what she had intended to say earlier; in fact, he had a lot of questions reserved for her, such as if Daphne kissed him last week because she really liked him, or if she had merely been caught up in the adrenaline rush of unmasking phantom after phantom after phantom, or if she had decided the kiss would boost the television ratings and increase their chance of winning the competition. And why had she written a song without informing him ahead of time, and was there any significance behind the lyrics when she looked at him and crooned, "I love you?"

Fred sighs as he examines yet another exit looming before him on the freeway, and he makes a mental note to mull everything over with Shaggy and Scooby, even though he knows they will most likely chide him and sigh with exasperation, "How many times do we have to tell you – _just_ _talk to her already_!" But how could Fred convey to them that telling Daphne about his feelings was more terrifying than every mystery and every monster Mystery Incorporated had ever encountered? And how does he express the terror that constricts his throat when he ponders how Daphne will respond to his questions? Worse yet, Fred is unsure of how to diffuse the strain between him and Daphne; leading up to their _Talent Star_ performance and even up to the moment when they had kissed, Fred had felt they were on the same wavelength, hitting every note perfectly and swaying on stage in perfect tandem together; they had never been out of synch before during their performances and their mysteries, but now Fred felt as though he was trying to talk to Daphne from the other side of a tumultuous river, and every time he opened his mouth his words were drowned out by the babbling water. Fred has never felt this rigidity around Daphne before, and that pain burns him more than the thought that he might never feel her lips pressed upon his ever again.

"Fred, look out- you're about to pass up our exit up there!" Velma slices through Fred's thoughts, jabbing a finger towards the fork in the freeway ahead.

Fred is jarred back into the present by the sound of the adamant voice screeching from the GPS system installed in the van, which demands in a Scottish accent (Shaggy had found humor in the voice and insisted on making this the default speaker) that Fred hang a right for the next exit, which is unfortunately about to flash by the Mystery Machine in the wink of an eye. Without thinking, Fred yanks the steering wheel jerkily and swerves the van across two lanes, and he barely has a chance to deaccelerate as the exit ramp abruptly curves into a sharp sloping bend, which sends Shaggy and Scooby flying against the wall behind him, dumps Velma into the glove compartment to his right, and spills Daphne onto Fred's lap as the Mystery Machine tilts uneasily on its side while Fred attempts to regain control.

Heart pounding against his ribcage, Fred manages to pump the brakes and pull the van onto the side of the road branching off from the exit; despite the adrenaline slamming through his veins and his choppy breathing, he is instantly and acutely aware of Daphne's cheek smashed against his thigh and her hand grasping his knee in an attempt to steady herself, and without intending to he feels his ears burn and his cheeks are crimson red.

Daphne moans as Fred places his hands on her shoulder and helps guide her back into a sitting position; normally neither of them even react when Fred slips his hand into Daphne's when they're running from a monster or when Daphne grips Fred's arm during a terrifying moment, but Fred feels Daphne recoil beneath his touch and jump to the other side of the passenger seat as though Fred is contagiously ill, and Fred feels a pang of sadness sweep over him like a tidal wave; he hates that their kiss has already made things way more awkward between them, and he reminds himself that this is exactly why he has abstained from telling Daphne about his feelings before now.

"Are you okay, Daph?" Fred asks politely, hoping that his voice sounds neutral and that his facial expressions aren't betraying the pain that stings him.

"Uh, I'm okay, thanks Freddy," Daphne sighs as she massages her fingers against her temple as though she has a headache. "Velma, are you all right?"

Velma straightens herself on the passenger seat beside Daphne and scowls at Fred. "I'm okay, but I'm not so sure that Fred is!" Velma guffaws. "What were you thinking about that had you so distracted back there, Fred? You could have flipped the Mystery Machine and killed us!"

"I-I wasn't thinking about anything!" Fred stammers, his cheeks once again flush with embarrassment. "Cut me some slack here, we haven't solved a mystery in Michigan in months and I'm not exactly familiar with where I'm driving! Are you okay back there, Scooby?"

"Rea-rea!" Scooby barks as he lifts his head out of the box of Scooby Snacks that have sandwiched his face during the sudden turn off the freeway. "Ri am reaaaal good, ree-hee-hee-hee!"

"Like hey, is no one going to ask me if I'm okay?!" Shaggy retorts indignantly as he wrenches himself back onto the back seat located behind the driver side of the van. To ramp up the drama, Shaggy glares in Fred's direction as he over-exaggerates the act of brushing the dirt off his t-shirt sleeve and harrumphs loudly.

Fred inhales as he examines his tattered but safe his friends spread out around him in the van. "Sorry about that, gang," Fred apologizes sheepishly. "I guess I thought I had another few miles before we hit the exit. Let's keep going – Goose Lake isn't too far from here, so we should be there in about ten minutes."

Fred eases the Mystery Machine back onto the road and obeys the GPS' directions. As he drives, he mentally chastises himself for becoming so consumed with his thoughts regarding Daphne that he would nearly get his friends killed. As a sign welcoming the gang to Goose Lake Camping Ground streaks by outside Fred's window, Fred vows to pour his focus into this mystery; after all, maybe if he shuts his eyes and ignores all these conflicting feelings and thoughts in his head, they're bound to dissipate eventually, right?

"Well, this is it, gang," Fred announces as he pulls the Mystery Machine to a stop outside of a cozy office building constructed of logs. "But I'm confused – I didn't realize that Goose Lake was a camp site?"

"It wasn't originally intended for camping," Velma offers helpfully as the gang spill out of the Mystery Machine. The sound of car doors slamming fills the air as everyone shoots Velma an inquisitive look, and she clarifies, "I know this already because I studied Goose Lake a little on our way up here; Goose Lake was originally just a lake, but it was converted to a camp ground some time ago."

Fred steps around the Mystery Machine and takes a few steps toward the camp ground, his eyes sweeping over the scene before him. His friends cluster around him as they take note of the numerous trees dotting the perimeter of the lake, which is presumably the infamous Goose Lake; Fred marvels at the fact that the water is clear and undiluted and blue, unlike the polluted and green, murky beach water he is familiar with back at home in Coolsville. Mahogany picnic tables are randomly strewn about on the grass, and Fred can tell the tables are fairly old when he notes the chipped pieces of paint peeling off the benches. These are all normal, ordinary pieces that comprise a campground, but what feels atypical to the natural scene before the gang is the large stage situated about thirty feet in front of the lake and the various sized monitors and microphones scattered in front of the stage. Fred blinks, uncertain as to why all of this equipment would be positioned in the midst of this random and serene location.

"Like, what is goin' on here?" Shaggy echoes Fred's thoughts as he gazes around at the scene before him. "Is there some kinda band performin' or a concert of some sort tonight?"

Before anyone from Mystery Incorporated can speak, a man with black hair that is neatly contained in a single braid which hangs down the middle of his back emerges from behind the stage carrying a teal colored bass guitar, and when he catches the gang gawking at him he leans the bass against the front of the stage and waves.

"Sorry dudes, you're a few days early for the Goose Lake Revival Concert!" the man booms in a loud and masculine but friendly voice. "Come back this Friday and we'll be ready for ya then!"

"Oh, we aren't here for the concert," Daphne corrects the man politely, and Fred tries to still the voice in his head that reminds him that this is the most Daphne has said since they left the gas station in Chicago. "We're actually here to help solve the mystery of the Goose Lake Monster that's been all over the news!"

The man's eyes widen and his mouth gapes open as he studies the sleuths for a few silent moments.

"Hey man, I just realized that I recognize you five!" the man proclaims animatedly, akin to an overjoyed toddler. "You're Mystery Incorporated! Wow, Jordie and Erica are going to be so stoked that you guys are here to help us, man!"

Before the gang can question the man further or even inquire about the identities of Jodie and Erica, the man with the long braid enthusiastically strolls to the presumed office building constructed of logs, slipping inside the front door as the gang glance at each other and shrug. They only have to wait a few minutes before the man emerges from the building and begins to saunter towards them, this time with a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and a woman who appears to be in her early 20's flanking alongside him.

"Oh wow Sid, you weren't kidding!" the second man trills with glee as he eyes Mystery Incorporated with shining eyes. "I can't believe it's actually them!"

Fred feels a blush seep onto his cheeks; no matter how many mysteries the gang have solved, he is still not accustomed to the way people gush and react to him and his friends, and the way these perfect strangers already know so much about the gang without Mystery Incorporated even having introduced themselves.

When the trio are face-to-face with Fred and his friends, Fred has a chance to examine each person in more detail. The man the gang had first interacted with (who had been referred to as Sid just a moment ago) stuck out because of his unique braid, but now that he is standing before them Fred notes the crow's feet that rest in the corners of Sid's eyes and the friendly, gentle smile pasted to his face, which matches the glimmering brown eyes and the laugh lines etched onto his cheeks. Fred is also struck by Sid's wardrobe choices; Sid ticks all the boxes for Fred's conventional definition of a flower child or a hippie from the 60's and early 70's with his tie-die swirl t-shirt and his brown corduroy pants and his braided hair, and his mannerisms and speech, too.

Whereas Sid appears more relaxed and casual, Jordie is more professional and polished; Jordie's short dark, greying hair is a stark contrast to the braid that swings down Sid's back, and Jordie wears black slacks and a crisp, long-sleeved white dress shirt as opposed to Sid's choice of corduroys and a vibrant, colorful shirt. Although Jordie emits a corporate, no-nonsense appearance, he emits a warm and friendly aura that Fred instantly gravitates toward and makes him decide that he likes Jordie immediately; Jordie smiles so often that Fred wonders if Jordie is ever without the grin on his face, and it is evident from the twinkle in his soft grey eyes that he is genuinely pleased to meet Mystery Incorporated.

This finally gives Fred a chance to study Erica, the young woman who seems to be the least friendly, or perhaps simply the shyest, of the trio. Whereas Sid and Jordie immediately enveloped the gang into a warm hug as though the young detectives were their long-lost friends, Erica stands a few feet away, aloof to the newcomers. Her green eyes are sharp and bright, and Fred can't help but feel as though Erica is penetrating his every thought from the intense way she gazes upon him and his friends, and he squirms when he catches Erica eyeing him and Daphne in particular; Erica noticeably gnaws the inside of her cheek as though she is concentrating deeply as she studies them both, as though she is trying to recollect how she has met Daphne and Fred before now, which makes Fred turns his head away timidly to focus on Sid and Jordie. Even though Erica is definitely the more intense of the three, Fred is still intrigued by Erica and her vivid emerald eyes and her vibrant cobalt colored hair; he doesn't get the sense that her scrutiny is from unfriendliness as much as it stems from her cautious awareness of her surroundings.

After Jordie and Sid exchange hearty hugs with the gang and Erica eyes Mystery Incorporated curiously from a short distance, Fred sweeps his hand towards his friends as he speaks and formally introduces himself and the rest of the gang. When he introduces each of his friends by name, each member of the gang responds with a curt nod and a smile or a wave towards Jordie, Erica, and Sid.

"We just arrived here from Chicago," Velma adds by way of explanation. "We read about the Goose Lake Monster while we were on the road, and we thought we would stop by to see if we could lend our services to you all in any way."

When Velma mentions Chicago, Erica's brilliant green eyes shine bright, and her expression changes from pensive and reserved to overjoyed and astonished as quickly as the flick of a light switch.

"Oh my gosh, I know how I recognize you two now!" Erica beams as she steps toward Fred and Daphne, and Fred feels anxiety coil suddenly in the pit of his stomach as Erica's eyes shine as she gazes upon him and Daphne. "It clicked as soon as Velma said you guys just came in from Chicago! You're the same Fred and Daphne who almost won _Talent_ _Star_ on TV; I watched every single episode week after week! Oh my gosh, this is such an honor; I am such a huge fan of you both!"

Fred and Daphne exchange sheepish grins, suddenly uncomfortable with all the attention, but Erica continues to fuss over them in a torrent of screams and questions; Fred can't help but think Erica's behavior is reminiscent of how young teenage girls would react if they were standing before Harry Styles or Ariana Grande.

"Oh my gosh, Dad, I was just telling you about these two last week!" Erica gushes. "Remember when I told you about that couple on _Talent Star_ who wrote their own song and made it the finals and had to perform that tie-breaker against the violin girl?! Well, this is them and they're actually standing right before us; I can't believe it's actually you guys!"

"Oh, trust me, we're really not that exciting," Daphne replies humbly, her voice tinged with embarrassment; Fred had always admired how grounded Daphne reacted whenever someone cooed over her and the gang with admiration and awe.

"No really, you guys are awesome!" Erica declares, taking advantage of the opportunity to pump their hands in an eager handshake. "Wow, I still can't believe you guys are actually here! I just want to say that I loved both of your original songs; I thought your song lyrics were so cute and so romantic, and they really captured the relationship you guys shared off and on stage. Like, how sweet was your one lyric – how did it go again? – oh yeah! _Our lives keep evolving through hope and despair / I can take all the changes knowing you're there_ –"

Fred feels the sweat pool all over his body and slide down his spine as his heart knocks wildly against his chest, and he is too humiliated to even chance a glimpse towards Daphne's direction to gauge her reaction; he wishes he knew how to make Erica stop gushing about him and Daphne, and he wishes more than anything that he could blot out Erica's voice with a wave of his hand and erase this moment entirely, but all he can do is stand there with his mouth gaping open as he watches this unfurl before him like a slow-moving car crash.

"And ohmigosh, _that kiss_ at the end of your final song last week was so adorable!" Erica is actually squealing enthusiastically now, and Fred's ears begin to ring and his cheeks feel as though they are enflamed as she continues, "I had always figured you guys were dating and I always thought you made the cutest couple, so seeing that kiss really made me _so happy_ , and I know other Fraphne fans who were just exploding with excitement, too –"

"Uh, _Fraphne_ fans?" Velma echoes in bewilderment; Fred notes the amused grin that Shaggy is attempting to bite back on his face, and Scooby is chuckling softly as Erica speaks.

Erica nods her head vigoriously. "Yeah, Fraphne is the name the fans have given Fred and Daphne, ya know, like those blended celebrity couples you hear about in the media all the time, like Brangelina for instance! The Fraphne nickname is all over the message boards on Reddit, and last week the Fraphne hash tag was trending #2 on Twitter after the Fraphne kiss ended the show, and – "

Fred feels as though he is having an out of body experience; this is some other guy who is listening to Erica speak and is standing in the middle of Goose Lake embarrassed as hell, and he's just simply watching all the entertainment occur before him. When Erica says that Fraphne has consumed social media Fred feels a jolt of shock ripple through him; this is the first he has heard of dedicated fans being so invested in him and Daphne as a couple that they would go so far as to not only give them a blended nickname, but to also vocalize their devotion for the couple to the point that it consumed Twitter.

" – but anyway, I am such a huge fan of you both, and I was so glad to see my favorite ship end up together last week during the season finale of _Talent Star_!" Erica exclaims with a sigh, and Fred hopes this indicates that she is done talking, but then it feels as though his heart stops when Erica knits her eyebrows together and looks at Fred and Daphne pointedly when she observes the physical distance separating them both, and she asks, "Wait, you guys are actually like, super in love and stuff, right? It wasn't just for show and for ratings, was it?"

Fred feels his stomach lurch and a voice in his head is screaming at him to seize this moment, however embarrassing, and capitalize on it by revealing how he feels about Daphne. But when his eyes flicker towards Daphne and he sees her cheeks blooming crimson red and her mouth set in a firm line, he is reminded of her silence and the distance between the two of them in the Mystery Machine, so he remains silent, unwilling to risk any further deterioration in their friendship.

Fortunately for Fred, Jordie lays a hand on Erica's shoulder and interjects with a soft chuckle, "All right sweetie, I'm sure Fred and Daphne are tired after their long car ride; the last thing they want to deal with right now is another crazy fangirl! Let's give them a chance settle in for a bit, and maybe they'll tell you all about _Talent Star_ another time."

"Hey, I didn't realize you folks were singers in addition to being detectives; that's groovy, man!" Sid says with a smile; Fred feels his shoulders relax and he sighs with relief as he realizes that they are inching further and further away from Erica's joyful rants about all things Fraphne. "Matter of fact, I'm actually a manager for a certain up and coming artist named Elliott Finn; he's about to launch his first album in a couple of weeks, and we've been advertising and promoting the hell out of him before his first single drops. Maybe you'll be able to meet him, man; in fact, he should be around here somewhere…"

Sid's voice trails off as his eyes waver around the campground, presumably looking for Elliot. When he doesn't find Elliott, he pulls his cell phone out of the back pocket of his corduroys and calls someone, telling whoever is at the end of the other end to "get here quickly, dude."

"Well, that certainly explains the stage and all the band equipment," Velma surmises. "Is Elliott playing a concert here to promote his upcoming album? I've been curious about the concert you were alluding to earlier, Sid."

When Velma mentions the concert Jodie noticeably glows, puffing out his chest with pride.

"You're exactly right, Velma!" Jordie beams. "Elliott Finn is our headliner for the revival concert we're hosting at Goose Lake this weekend! You see, Goose Lake wasn't always a campground; not too many people are aware of this, but back in 1970, Goose Lake hosted a three-day festival that was intended to rival the likes of Woodstock. The festival was Michigan's largest concert to date in history, and it was a whopping success and a great time for everyone. I happen to know this because I was one of the audience members in attendance, along with Sid here!"

At the mention of this memory, Sid sighs nostalgically.

"The Goose Lake Music Festival is like, the entire reason why I got into managing artists, man," Sid says dreamily. "Those three days were totally groovy. It was super cool because there were quite a few big names, and the festival also showcased some local artists, too, which is like totally awesome because I grew up in Detroit and I've lived here my entire life."

Jordie extracted a flyer from his back pocket and extended it towards the gang, which Daphne took into her hands; the rest of the gang thronged around her to scan the handout. At a glance, Fred thinks the flyer is an advertisement for Land O' Lakes Butter; the advertisement features the same Indian woman kneeling on the vibrant green grass and the same cheerful, sunny yellow background that Fred has seen on the packaging of the butter he purchases at the grocery store, but upon further examination, Fred sees that it is actually a creative announcement for the Goose Lake Music Festival Jordie and Sid had mentioned. Instead of the usual Land O' Lakes slogan that arched behind the woman, Goose Lake is instead scrawled in large red letters, and beneath the woman and the Goose Lake logo is row after row of band names and individual artists that had apparently played the show. Fred quickly skims each name to see if any names leap out at him; there are certain names such as Rod Stewart and Alice Cooper and The Stooges that he recognizes instantly, but there were others that have never appeared on his radar before, such as Jethro Thull and the Flying Burrito Bros.

"Flying Burrito Bros," Shaggy read aloud with a snicker, which also causes Scooby to crumple over into laughter, too. "Like, sounds like a band name Scoob and I would come up with, haha!"

"Rea it does, Raggy!" Scooby agrees, licking his lips at the thought of eating some greasy burritos.

Daphne passed the flyer back to Jordie, who explains, "Actually, a few of the more popular names, such as Alice Cooper, didn't end up playing the concert despite being advertised ahead of time, but that didn't diminish the event and all the fun throughout the weekend; even the artists and bands had a great time! In fact, rumor has it that Rod Stewart had so much fun that he made up an excuse to miss an obligation he had in New York that following day just so he could stay and hang around here a little bit longer and enjoy the festival."

Fred shakes his head, incredulous over not knowing about this concert before now; he knows about Woodstock and how iconic some of the performances by Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin had been all those years ago, but he has never even heard of Goose Lake or this legendary music festival from the '70's before Velma suggested the gang visit to investigate a mystery.

Erica shoved her dad playfully as she gazed at him with a twinkle in her eye. "What my pops and Sid have neglected to also tell you guys is that the Goose Lake Music Festival was just as notorious as Woodstock for all the psychedelic drugs and the insane orgies that took place in the audience," Erica laughed. "And I'm sure my dad here was one of those hippies who was all too happy to pass around a blunt and some LSD!"

"Erica!" Jordie yelped, his face turning several shades of red. "Don't listen to her, that isn't true at all! Yes, I will concede to the fact that there was some, er, recreational activities going on during the show, but it was nothing I would have ever partaken in, even as a teenager!" Sid mouthed, "Right, sure!" and winked as he stood behind Jordie, which caused the gang to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"Anyway, that's all in the past, man," Sid drawls as he slips his phone back into his pocket. "Unfortunately, the music festival was like, a one-time gig. The governor of Michigan at that time proclaimed that it was, like, the first largest concert Michigan had ever seen, but that it was also the last; I guess he didn't like all the drugs that were passed around and the way people were openly having sex. But I never got over that concert man, and just how awesome the atmosphere felt with everyone coming together to genuinely have a good time. And the '70's were such a different time man, everyone was so laid back and chill; it wasn't like it is now with all this technology and this fast-paced way of living."

"Sid and I wanted to bring back some of that wonder and awe that we've always kept close to our hearts since that weekend," Jordie added, casting a grateful smile towards Sid. "Minus the antics of the drugs and the public displays of affection, of course. So that's why we're bringing back a Goose Lake Music Festival revival for this weekend only; we know that we can't host nearly as many concert goers as the original festival, since that was upwards of 200,000 folks, but we wanted to offer something special and more intimate to a crowd of about a thousand or so people. And besides, it seems like this is the perfect year to do it since the concert occurred exactly fifty years ago; it'll be a nice tribute to the original."

"I tried to talk them into more since Goose Lake has the capacity to host 60,000," Erica pouted. "But Dad and Sid are stuck on keeping the numbers drastically lower to prevent some of the old shenanigans from occurring again, which makes sense."

"This is all really neat you guys, but I do have one question for you; why is it that the original Goose Lake Music Festival boasted of dozens of musical acts, but you've only mentioned having Elliott play?" Velma asks. "By my calculations, that means you only have one act playing compared to the dozens that were present in 1970, and you need quite a few more bands in order to pull off anything that is even remotely similar to a weekend- long musical festival."

Jordie visibly deflates at Velma's question, and he looks to the gang with a sadness flickering in his eyes that wasn't present previously.

"Well, that's where the Goose Lake Monster comes into play," Jordie sighs. "We did originally have about a dozen major acts planned, but when campers reported sightings of the Goose Lake Monster terrorizing the campgrounds over the past several weeks, all the bands pulled out of the deal; well, everyone except the artist that Sid manages, Elliott Finn. He is our headliner and our one and only act, and even though he is immensely talented and has a promising career ahead of him, I'm afraid he may not draw enough interest nor a large enough crowd. Our hope was to host this concert annually each summer, but if our first concert isn't a hit, then there's no way we can go forward with the show after this year."

"Like, Jordie man, I assure you, Elliott is definitely a big enough musical act for the concert," Sid insists. "Just you wait, dude: Elliott is gonna blow everyone's mind and sell so much merch and advanced copies of his album, it'll make your head spin!"

Suddenly Erica began to gasp and jump up and down eagerly like a child in a candy store.

"Oh my gosh, we should have Daphne and Fred play the show this weekend, too!" she squealed, eyeing the two with awe and admiration. "I mean, how perfect is it that they would happen to roll into town just in time for our show? Come on Dad, puh-leeeassse: you were just saying we need more artists to make it a successful music festival!"

Jordie looked at Fred and Daphne shamefacedly, and he flashed them a pearly white smile. "Well, I was actually thinking the same thing when I heard you folks were fresh off _Talent Star_ , but I would never want to impose, especially since you've already offered to help with the Goose Lake Monster. But since Erica has already suggested it and we really are in a bind, what do you all think? Would you be interested?"

Fred feels his heart slamming against his ribcage, and his palms were slick with sweat. In all honesty, when Jordie had mentioned that they were short on musical acts, the thought to volunteer had flitted across his mind, but everything with Daphne was so awkward and complicated since their kiss, and he feels as though he had to second guess his every thought and action around her now; he isn't too sure that performing on stage with her again is such a great idea, especially given the fact that Erica has now exposed the Fraphne nickname and hyped up the extent of the couple's popularity as a "ship," whatever that even meant. And how can he go back on stage and look in Daphne's sparkling green eyes and sing the same song lyrics, which are now so heavy with significance and meaning, especially _I love you_? When he and Daphne had written their original song, he secretly felt as though he was promising her that he would always be by her side when they gazed at each other from across the stage and sang, " _I can take all the changes knowing you're there / we're like the rivers that join at the sea / knowing that you're there is enough for me_." He had meant every word, every syllable, every declaration in that song, but it crushed him to think that Daphne may not feel the same way, and he isn't sure that he can climb up on stage with her again and put on another show for another audience because it isn't just a show for him; nothing was ever just for show when it came to how he felt about Daphne.

To Fred's immense shock, he heard Daphne clear his throat beside him and say, "I guess I can't speak for Freddy, but I would be honored to perform for you guys this weekend! You seem like wonderful people, and I wouldn't want to let you all down!"

Erica began to clap as she continued to jump up and down and shriek, and she cried, "Oh Daphne, thank you sooo much! What do you say, Fred? It would be so amazing to see Fraphne perform live!"

Without even realizing how he would respond, Fred opened his mouth and surprised himself by saying, "Sure, Erica! If Daphne's in, then I'm in, too."

Erica squealed even louder before and rushed towards Fred and Daphne, enclosing them in a tight hug.

"Ohmigosh, thank you both so so much!" Erica cried. "Really, you have no idea how excited I am to see you both perform again! I can't wait to advertise this all over Twitter and Reddit; people are going to be so hyped! And maybe we'll get lucky enough to see another Fraphne kiss." As she mentioned the kiss, Erica pulled away from Daphne and Fred to wink at them, and Fred feels his cheeks burn for what must be the thousandth time in the past ten minutes.

Jordie's cheeks are pink from the excitement, and his incredulous laughter is bubbling above all the other noises of the birds chirping and the lake gurgling.

"Seriously guys, I can't think you enough for helping us out!" Jordie beams. "I know you guys are really busy and you probably have tons of other commitments and shows booked, so I appreciate you helping us out in the final hour here."

Sid steps forward to pump Daphne and Fred's hand vigorously, but a concerned frown creases his forehead. "Wow dudes, that's like, totally tight of you two help us out here! But aren't you guys the least bit concerned about the Goose Lake Monster?"

This is a question Fred is accustomed to hearing over and over again throughout the years, so he knows exactly how to respond; it's like a chorus to a song that comes full circle, or the predictability and certainty in knowing that Saturday proceeds Friday.

"Nah, monsters and ghosts don't scare us!" Fred supplies his usual upbeat response to this question, and he offers Jordie a smile for good measure.

"HA! Speak for yourself, Fredster!" Shaggy interjects, glancing at the Mystery Machine behind him. "Like, Scoob and I would rather not stick around if that's okay with you, so we'll just head on over to the Mystery Machine now and mosey on out of here!"

Scooby and Shaggy turn abruptly to walk towards the Mystery Machine, but Velma catches both of them in a tight grip on their elbow before they can take a step forward.

"Not so fast you two chickens!" Velma tutted disapprovingly. "These three kind people need our help, and we can't just turn our backs on them now. Besides, Fred and Daphne are involved in the concert now too, so we have to support them!"

"But, like, we just supported them in Chicago and during the rest of this past season on _Talent Star_ too, so I say Scoob and I have done enough to earn our good friend badge for the year!" Shaggy exclaims. Scooby nodded his head energetically in agreement as Shaggy spoke.

Daphne snorts back a laugh. "Gee, thanks for your unwavering support, guys."

"This is, like, so groovy of you two, man!" Sid proclaims, oblivious to Shaggy and Scooby's best efforts to bolt from Goose Lake. "I am so hyped to tell Elliott that you guys will be rocking alongside him on the card this weekend!"

"Did I hear someone mention my name?"

As if on cue, a slender man with wavy, shoulder-length black hair emerges from the log cabin office, walking briskly towards Mystery Incorporated and Jordie, Erica, and Sid. The man appeared to be in about his mid-20's, and he had thick, bushy eyebrows and dark stubble dotting his chin. He wore an oversized flannel shirt that hung off his thin arms and a black Nirvana shirt paired with loose, ripped jeans; he was very reminiscent of the typical 90's teenager, which Fred contributed to the fact that this man (presumably Elliott) was a teenager during the grunge era.

Sid turned and met the man halfway so he could take one of the two cardboard boxes Elliott had tucked underneath his arms, and he gestured wildly in Mystery Incorporated's direction.

"Elliott, you like, won't believe this, man! This is Mystery Incorporated, and they're here to help us with the Goose Lake Monster _and_ they're going to perform with you this weekend at the music festival!"

Elliott grins a lopsided smile at Mystery Incorporated, and he eyes each member of the gang, as though sizing them up in his mind.

"Wow, it's so great to meet each of you!" Elliott declares. "I've heard of you guys before on the news and whatnot! I wasn't aware you were all musicians in addition to being detectives."

Velma laughs bashfully as she nods in Daphne and Fred's direction. "Well, Shaggy, Scooby, and I are not the musically inclined ones of the group; that's Daphne and Fred's wheelhouse! In fact, they just performed on _Talent Star_ this past week."

Elliott's thick eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Wow, no kidding?" Elliott asks, his voice dripping with admiration as he stares at Daphne and Fred with awe. "That is seriously impressive! So you guys are the ones who are going to play the show with me? That's really cool! If you want, you guys can set up your merch table next to mine; I'm sure it would make it easier for the fans to buy all of our stuff in one collective place."

"Merch table?" Fred echoes in confusion.

"Ya know, like band tees and stuff!" Elliott explains. He drops the cardboard box he is carrying on the ground in front of the gang, and upon further inspection Fred notices stacks of charcoal colored t-shirts folded neatly inside of the box. Elliott bends down to grab one and brandishes it with a flourish, smiling proudly as the gang examine the shirt, which reads "Elliott Finn: Vicious Records."

" _Vicious Records_?" Velma reads. "Is that the record label you're signed under, Elliott?"

"It's actually, like, the name of the record label that I own and operate! The record label is sort of like a pun on my name, since I'm Sid, like Sid Vicious from The Sex Pistols," Sid boasts proudly, grinning at Elliott as he speaks. "Ya see, in addition to being Elliott's manager, I'm also, like, producing his album through my record label!"

"We're both pretty new in the music bizz," Elliott admits. "But we both have so much faith in the other person's ability to produce hits that are going to be chart toppers for years to come! I'm really honored to have Sid alongside me for this crazy ride; I can't imagine producing my first album without him!"

"Aww shucks, the feeling is, like, mutual brother!" Sid beams.

"Anyway, I have a dress rehearsal tonight, so I better be off so I can get ready since it's in a few hours; it was nice to meet you all!" Elliott bows his head in acknowledgement towards Mystery Incorporated, and his eyes pause as he addresses Daphne and Fred now. "I am really looking forward to hearing you both perform! Feel free to stop by and watch my set tonight. I gotta warn ya though, you should bring a change of clothes because I might blow your socks off!"

Daphne and Fred both chuckle at Elliott's endearing confidence, and Daphne smiles.

"Thanks Elliott, we'll be sure to check out your set tonight!" Daphne replies. "We don't have a setlist or anything prepared yet, so maybe it will give us an idea of what to perform."

"Sounds swell, Daphne!" Elliot says. He starts to turn towards the stage with the box of merch cradled in his left arm, but he stops to turn and face the gang again, his face and voice suddenly grave. "Listen, I'm really glad you guys are both performing on the card, but I hope these three have warned you about the Goose Lake Monster. He hasn't thwarted our concert yet, but truth be told, I'm really worried he'll make an appearance this weekend, or even tonight during my dress rehearsal. I know you guys are famous detectives, so it probably doesn't worry you, but just be careful; since we're the only two acts performing this weekend, we have to tread extra carefully if you catch my drift."

Elliott offers the gang a thin smile before he turns and heads towards the stage, and Sid waves to the gang, as well.

"I better, like, go follow him, but it was a pleasure meeting you all!" Sid chirps, tucking the other box of merch under his armpits. "Fred and Daphne, I know you guys will have a groovy time performing with us this weekend; Elliott and I are, like, so eager to hear you both!"

The gang sing out a chorus of good-byes as they watch Elliott and Sid walk away, and Erica and Jordie turn to Mystery Incorporated.

"You know, we've heard a great deal about this Goose Lake Monster, but to be honest, no one has told us much about him or even what he looks like," Velma points out. "Erica and Jordie, do you guys happen to have any newspaper articles or information for us so we can study this further? Or perhaps there is a local library where we can read up on the case?"

"That's a great idea, Velma!" Jordie exclaimed. "We're kind of a ways away from civilization, but there is a small library near the police station about five miles up the road. In fact, I would recommend you all visit Officer Bradford at the police station and ask him for the police reports from the last several weeks. He is the officer who has been responding to the case most consistently, so we have the most interactions with him. I'll call him and tell him to let you folks have a glance through the reports."

"Good luck with Officer Bradford though; he's a real peach," Erica says with a roll of her eyes. "He acts like he lives with a stick up his ass."

"ERICA!" Jordie is tomato red, and he narrows his eyes in warning at his daughter.

"Daaaad," Erica whines, dragging out the syllables in her speech. "You know it's true! Every time he's here to take a police report he complains about how we shouldn't be hosting the concert with all the Goose Lake Monster sightings. It's so obvious that he doesn't want the concert to go on this weekend."

"Hmmm…a disgruntled police officer who would rather not see a concert occur, huh?" Daphne muses aloud.

"My thoughts exactly, Daph," Velma agrees. "It sounds rather suspicious. It seems as though this police officer is definitely worth speaking to in that case."

"All right gang, let's go and talk to this Officer Bradford then!" Fred instructs. "And maybe we can hit the library afterwards, too; that way we can do a little more research and add on to anything we learn at the police station."

"Ah, I cannot tell you all just how grateful we are that you are not only performing in our show, but offering to help nab this Goose Lake Monster menace!" Jordie shrills. "This is truly kind of you!"

"Don't worry Jordie, Mystery Incorporated is always on the case!" Fred flashes a smile towards his friends and points towards the Mystery Machine. "All right gang, let's go – we've got a mystery to solve!"

"Like, I was afraid you were goin' to say that," Shaggy murmured.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: This is a short update and I had planned on writing more, but I decided to split chapter 2 so it wasn't too lengthy. Review if you feel inclined, and enjoy! - iamacliche

"Uh, nice weather we're having, huh?"

"Uhh, yeah! Sure is….uh, sunny?"

"Um, yeah, perfect. It's warm enough to wear a t-shirt, but not so warm that you feel, ah, uncomfortable."

"Er, right."

Fred inhales in an effort to swallow the lump forming in his throat, and he drums his fingers across the steering wheel in frustration; if driving up to Goose Lake with Daphne was tense, driving to the police station is unbearable. Even though they aren't ignoring each other, this strained, forced conversation isn't typical of the usual friendly banter shared between the two; Fred feels as though he and Daphne are speaking a foreign language to each other, both confused at what the other person is trying to convey.

Fred feels mortified for Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby, who are forced to endure this awkwardness by default as they all sit in the small van, an atmosphere so chilly and frosty that Fred is almost positive he will see his breath as a visible puffy cloud if he sighs. He has noticed Shaggy and Scooby's eyes flicker back and forth between Fred and Daphne as though they are watching a tennis match or a volleyball game, and Velma's lips are set in a firm, tight line.

"So you two, are you excited about playing a second show so soon after _Talent Star_?" Velma finally asks, and Fred mentally thanks her for resuscitating the conversation.

"I'll feel better after we know about this Goose Lake Monster everyone has been telling us about," Daphne admits. "I have to admit, it's a bit uncanny that we would find ourselves in another concert being haunted by yet another ghost so soon."

"Yeah, what did it take this time, like not even a week later before we ran into another mystery?" Fred snorts. He sees a sign for the Goose Lake Police Department ahead, and he pulls into the parking lot that is located adjacent to the small brick building. As Fred guides the Mystery Machine into an empty parking space and throws the van into park, he silently praises whichever God ensured he arrive here without spontaneously combusting from the tension sizzling in the van.

Luckily for Fred, and perhaps for the entire gang as well, for the next few hours or so, it's all business.

"Okay gang, Erica and Jordie mentioned that the cop who is most familiar with this case is a man named Bradford," Velma reminds everyone steps out of the Mystery Machine. "When we get inside, let's see if we can request to speak with him about this case."

"Right – and it sounds like he could potentially be our first suspect, too, based on what Erica was saying," Fred adds.

The five friends bunch together like a constellation of stars as they move towards the entrance to the police station, and Fred is conspicuous of how Daphne stands just a hair's length away from his left shoulder; it's a realization that settles over him like a second skin, making him itchy and uneasy. Before their kiss, this is yet another subtle and meaningless gesture that wouldn't have even registered in his brain, but now makes him hyper-aware of the proximity between his body and Daphne's; just the realization alone makes the heat pool beneath his cheeks. He grasps the door and holds it open for his friends, allowing them to filter through the entrance one-by-one, and he shoots Daphne a dignified smile as she passes, but her eyes don't even flicker towards Fred's direction, as though he is invisible. As Fred falls behind Shaggy and Scooby, he allows the door to swing shut behind him, and he ignores the anxiety clenching and unclenching itself like a fist in his stomach, urging himself to focus now on the mystery at hand.

The inside of the police station is small and simple, just like the rest of Goose Lake, and it is oppressively bright and sterile; the walls are a glaring, eggshell white, and the flickering fluorescent lights that hum overhead are so bright they give Fred a headache almost instantly. Eerie quiet and a faint, musty smell laced with the stench of stale coffee follows the gang's steps towards the glass partition that separates civilians from the police officer on duty in the tight, cubed room on the other side of the Plexiglas.

A tiny bell sits on the counter, but Fred immediately notes the officer on the other side of the glass window, his back facing Mystery Incorporated. Despite the fact that there is obviously no need to ring the bell to catch anyone's attention, this doesn't stop Scooby Doo from standing on his hind legs and smashing his paw into the bell repeatedly, snickering each time the bell's tinny ding resonates inside the tiny cubicle.

"Scooby, maybe you better cut that out!" Fred hisses as he eyes the way the police officer's shoulders tense and flinch each time the ringing of the bell slices into the quiet, and just as Scooby raises his paw to slam the bell a seventh time, the officer whips around to face the five friends and lurches towards the glass partition, sticking his hand onto the counter to snatch the bell off the counter. His gaze sweeps over the gang accusingly, and his eyes grow as wide as saucers when he realizes the source behind the noise is the Great Dane standing on two feet and giggling alongside Shaggy. The cop fixes them both in a condescending glare.

"This is _not_ a toy, you two," the officer practically spits, his voice sounds so venomous that Fred half expects the man's eyes to glow with a red hazy intensity.

Velma clears her throat as she smiles at the officer sheepishly.

"We're sorry for our friends', ah, callous immaturity, sir," Velma says abashedly. "But we're hoping the police department here can help us out with something. Is there an Officer Bradford on duty? We would like to ask him a few questions regarding the Goose Lake Monster."

The man squints at the gang, his gaze so intense that Fred squirms as though he has committed a crime and has been caught red-handed.

"I am Officer Bradford," the man confirms in his intimidating baritone voice. "What in the world could you all possibly want to ask me about that case? We aren't in any position to be discussing this with the public."

Now that the man is leaning towards the gang from across the counter, Fred takes the opportunity to observe him further. Officer Bradford is a tank-sized man with tattooed arms that bulged from the short sleeves of his crisp blue uniform. His steel-gray hair is military-short, and stubble swept across his ruddy face. Bradford's dark brown eyes are cold and distant, and Fred sees no trace of warmth or laughter glimmering in the man's irises. Fred doesn't believe in adhering to the old adage of judging a book by its cover, but based on physical stature and his personality alone, Fred instantly understands why Erica perceives this man as a potential suspect.

"Well, you see sir, we've offered to help Jordie, Erica, and Sid with the Goose Lake Monster," Daphne explains. "And we were asking them about the case and the monster's appearance, and Jordie and Erica directed us to speak with you."

"Jordie was even hoping that you could show us some reports that you took from recent complaints regarding the Goose Lake Monster, as well as any photographs you have on file so we can get a physical description," Fred adds.

Officer Bradford narrows his eyes at the gang incredulously.

"Sorry, but I can't just show you our files on the case," he huffs in response; his voice sounds irritated and strained, as though he is explaining a simple fact to a toddler. "Like I said, this isn't exactly open to the public for scrutiny. You kids should be on your way now."

Shaggy and Scooby pivot on their heel and look towards the police station exit.

"Well, like, you heard the man, I guess that's that, then!" Shaggy trills merrily, taking a step towards the door. "I guess this means we, like, can't stick around to meet that scary Goose Lake Monster after all!"

Before Shaggy and Scooby can take a second step, Daphne snatches Scooby's collar and Shaggy's shirt sleeve, pausing them in their tracks.

"With all due respect, sir, those reports are available to the public," Velma holds her eye contact with Officer Bradford, refusing to back down from his malevolent glare. "The law states that citizens are allowed to view any public records on accidents or incidents that occur, and are even able to request copies of reports to read."

"And we're not doing it to simply be nosy," Daphne interjects. "We just really want to help our new friends solve this case so they can have their revival concert. And besides, my friend and I are involved in the show now, so we have even more at stake now."

At the mention of the words "my friend" Fred feels himself bristling, and he tries not to overanalyze the implication of "friend," but his mind is churning and snagging on the phrase and bursting at the seams with questions; do friends kiss each other on stage? Do friends write flirty, romantic songs together and then perform them for a live studio audience and millions of viewers? Do friends dance and sashay around their romantic feelings for each other? Do friends know how the other person tastes like strawberry lipgloss? Do friends –

Officer Bradford exhales loudly, abruptly cutting through the thoughts tumbling around in Fred's brain. The cop shoots Daphne an icy glare, and to Daphne's credit, she doesn't waver, instead staring back calmly and without blinking.

Finally, Bradford clucks his tongue, signaling his annoyance. Without a word, he spins around and stomps towards the filing cabinets stacked on the other side of the clustered cubicle, and yanks the cabinet open with an aggressive flick of his wrist. He rifles through the files before producing a thick manila folder, which he tucks under his arm as he smashes the filing cabinet closed. As he walks back towards the counter, Fred catches Velma's attention; Velma raises her eyebrows as if to ask, "what a prince, huh?" and Fred rolls his eyes in response.

Officer Bradford slams the folder down on the counter, and he glowers at the gang once again.

"Here are all of the public records we have compiled for the Goose Lake Monster," Officer Bradford grumbles. He turns his attention towards Daphne. "You say you and your friend are performing at the show?"

Daphne only nods, and her gaze flashes in Fred's direction, who shifts uncomfortably on his feet. If Officer Bradford notices the storm cloud hissing and snapping over Fred and Daphne, he either doesn't care (which is the most likely scenario), or he is completely oblivious.

"Well, between you and I, I would highly advise you not to perform in that show this weekend," Officer Bradford snaps at Fred and Daphne, his eyes wavering between the two as he scolds them like children. "This Goose Lake Monster is no joke, and if he makes an appearance at the concert, which I'm sure he will, people could get hurt. Do I make myself clear?"

Fred considers retorting back sarcastically, but he notices Velma shake her head slightly out of the corner of his eye, and he realizes it's probably best to remain in Officer Bradford's good graces before the gang have the police reports safely in their possession.

Luckily, Daphne must be on the same wavelength as Fred ( _aren't they always on the same wavelength?_ he silently realizes as a ping of sadness courses through his limbs, and his bones suddenly feel dull and achy) because she just offers the officer her brightest, widest smile, and she grabs the manila folder and replies, "Oh, of course, we'll take everything you've said very seriously Officer Bradford! And who knows how we'll feel about performing after we read through these reports, right Freddy?"

Fred almost chokes and his cheeks blaze when he hears Daphne say his name, but he manages to recover and nod. Officer Bradford looks as though he is about to say something, but then the phone rings, drawing his attention away from the sleuths.

"I need to take this call," Bradford sniffs. "You kids go through that file while I'm on the phone. If you want, there's a table outside the police station where you can read over everything and discuss it, but be sure to return those papers once you've finished. If you want your own copy of anything you see there, you need to wait a day before it can be prepared."

Officer Bradford turns so his back is facing Mystery Incorporated as he snatches the phone cradled beside the computer on his desk, and as he launches into a discussion with whoever is on the other end, Daphne clasps the folder in her hands as the friends hastily exit from the police station. Fred notes how he and his friends are moving as though the building is on fire, and he knows it's because none of them can wait to be as far away as possible from Officer Bradford. Once they are outside, Fred notes the table shaded by a red and white umbrella just to the side of the brick building. Three benches curved like melon slices surround the table, and Shaggy and Scooby claim the first one, plopping down onto the seat with a contended sigh. Fred feels his throat tighten and constrict as the panic bubbles inside his chest; normally he would occupy the empty space beside Daphne, but his anxiety is already suffocating him at the thought of stammering through another twenty minutes of awkwardness. But luckily for him, Daphne makes the decision for him when she slides onto the bench beside Velma, leaving the final bench space open for Fred, which he claims gratefully.

"Well, I'm just going to say what everyone is already thinking," Daphne guffaws. "Officer Bradford isn't exactly the most joyful man I've ever met."

"Like, no kiddin'!" Shaggy exclaims. "He, like, gives me the creeps, if I'm bein' perfectly honest."

"It really does make perfect sense as to why Erica has him pegged as a suspect," Velma muses. "In fact, I would agree with her; I think Officer Bradford is definitely our first suspect for this case."

"But what would be his motive?" Fred ponders aloud. "Why would a police officer choose to scare off locals under the guise of the Goose Lake Monster? Normally when we unmask a criminal he's seeking some sort of revenge, or he is trying to get away with stealing money or jewels or something. I imagine if Officer Bradford wanted to steal money, he could easily access it from his job, like dipping into the drug supply of the drug dealers they've busted, or taking from the counterfeit money the police collect."

"We can see if we find anything on Officer Bradford during our library research after we go over these reports," Velma replies. "If he is somehow involved in this case, maybe we can learn something about his background or uncover or a motive there. For now, I really want a look at this Goose Lake Monster!"

Velma opens the manila folder and fans the reports on the table before the gang. Her eyes scan the papers as she looks for the earliest report, and when she notes the oldest report dated from three weeks back, she pinches it between her fingers and slides her glasses up the bridge of her nose before she begins to read aloud.

"This report from the first sighting of the Goose Lake Monster reads, 'On Friday, July 11th, Officer Bradford was dispatched to Goose Lake, MI in response to a call from Jordie Hennigan,'" Velma orates. "When the 911 dispatcher asked for details regarding the emergency, Jordie frantically reported that campers at Goose Lake were cooking over a campfire when a giant, scaly green monster emerged from the lake, causing chaos when it began to chase the frightened campers and destroyed personal belongings, such as tents and sleeping bags. When Officer Bradford arrived to the lake at 2:07 PM, most of the terrified witnesses had already fled the scene. Upon arriving at the scene, Officer Bradford noted giant foot prints, which measured to about nine feet wide, steeped into the grass and indicating the trail the monster had run during his reign of terror. Officer Bradford followed the footprints, which ended abruptly in the same place where they began – Goose Lake."

"So that means that the monster came out of the lake, and after he was done scaring people, he retreated back into the lake again," Daphne ruminates.

"ZOINKS! Like, are we sure this is just a man in a costume this time then?!" Shaggy bellows as Scooby begins to shake beside him.

Fred detects Velma's slight eye roll in response before she continues reading the report.

"'Bradford reported that there were no injuries sustained from the monster's attack," Velma continues. "When asked for a physical description of the specimen, a witness who remained at the scene described the monster as 'a tall, freaky looking iguana that could run.' On Saturday, July 12th, Goose Lake PD requested security footage from the main office that overlooked the campground. Attached to this report is a screenshot from that footage featuring the monster's attack upon the campers."

Velma fiddles with a paper clip fastened to the top of the report, which loosens a small photograph pasted to the backside of the police report. The photograph flutters onto the tabletop, and instantly Daphne snatches the photo into her hands as Velma hovers next to Daphne to study it closely.

"Well, I don't blame the campers for looking spooked; it certainly looks like an intimidating monster," Daphne shivers as she hands the photograph to Shaggy and Scooby, who peer at the photo for only a minute before yelping with fear; Scooby is so horrified, he dives beneath the table and cowers with terror.

"Come on guys, it can't be _that_ bad," Fred intones, extending his hand towards Shaggy so he can have a chance to analyze the photograph. Shaggy places the photo in Fred's palm swiftly, as though he can't have it out of his eyesight fast enough.

Once Fred has the photograph in his possession, he squints so he can study the grainy, black and white snapshot of the-so-called Goose Lake Monster. Fred instantly understands why the witness called the monster a "giant iguana," because the monster looks like someone inflated a child's pet iguana or shrank a real-life dragon down to a human's height. The photo, which is obviously taken from a security camera tucked away on the side of the main office building, is captured from an angle showing the side of the lake, illustrating the monster running from the lake and towards a family spread around a glowing campfire. The monster has a stocky build, and he towers above the father, the tallest member of the horrified family in the photo, so Fred guesses the monster is about eight or nine feet tall. Like an actual iguana, greenish-purple scales cover the monster's body, and the spine that snakes along its back and tail looks like a string of pearls. Fred also notes the saggy, voluminous skin that dangles from the monster's neck, and the webbed feet and hands. But perhaps what is most staggering are the eyes, which are a fiery crimson color and much more rounded and fuller than the small, beady eyes on a pet iguana, and the way the monster bares his tall, pointy teeth, which look as spiky as a shark's. Fred feels a shiver slither down his spine as he slides the photo back to Velma, and for once, he almost doesn't blame Shaggy and Scooby for wanting to abandon a mystery.

"Like, I don't get this monster," Shaggy states as the photo circulates around the table once more. "That thing looks like an iguana, but like, I didn't think iguanas could swim?!"

"They most certainly can swim, Shaggy," Velma retorts, her fingers flying across her phone as she plugs something into a search engine. As images of sleek iguanas gliding through water load onto her phone, Velma taps her screen in response to Shaggy's inquiry.

"This search engine says that iguanas are excellent swimmers in spite of the fact that they do not look as though they are built for swimming," Velma explains. "And the marine iguana in particular can stay submerged for up to an hour. But I don't believe that most iguanas can survive under water for any length of time past an hour or so before they need to resurface for air."

"Jeepers," Daphne sighs as she rubs her hands along her arms to calm the goosebumps wafting over her skin. "This case just gets creepier and creepier! It's bad enough we're dealing with a monster on land, but if we add in the fact that he can swim, it's going to get way more complicated."

Fred feels something loosen inside his ribcage as he surveys his friends' grim faces around the table. As the leader of Mystery Incorporated, he always felt the pressure to keep his friends safe simmering beneath every dangerous situation, and this one is already no different. Whenever his friends were faced with the prospect of peril Fred always experienced this fear as a physical reaction in his body, feeling it rise within him the same way a lioness is inclined to protect her cubs from a predator. Subconsciously, he finds his eyes drifting towards Daphne, and he takes in the sight of her furrowed eyebrows and the concern etched in her forehead like fault lines and her vibrant, twinkling emerald eyes; without even saying it aloud, Fred knows she is considering how she has inserted herself into danger all over again by performing in this concert. Something swells in Fred's chest as he gazes at Daphne, and it's then that he realizes that no matter what happens between him and Daphne, his body will always be wired to protect this girl until his dying breath.

Velma flips through the other reports spread on the table and scans for information on additional attacks, but overall, the details are consistent report to report; the monster would slither out of the lake to disturb campers as they curled around a campfire, and the crowds began to thin as the monster's attacks intensified in frequency. The one detail that stood out as a stark contrast from the rest of the attacks occurred in the report dated from just three days before the gang's arrival at Goose Lake, in which Officer Bradford noted that the words "DO NOT ALLOW GOOSE LAKE MUSIC FESTIVAL TO GO ON" were spray painted on the side of the office building after the monster had trampled through the campground.

"Hmmm…a literate monster, huh?" Fred ponders aloud. "Sounds rather fishy to me."

"I agree, Fred, but it sure does sound like whoever is behind all of this is adamant about cancelling the concert," Velma adds, her gaze flickering between Fred and Daphne's face to gauge their reactions. "And just as we saw with the phantom, err, phantoms, in Chicago last week, I would say performing puts you two in grave danger once again. There is a good chance he is going to target you two since he is insisting that this show does not happen."

Daphne straightened up and poked her chin out defiantly in response to Velma's comment.

"I don't know about Fred, but I gave Jordie and Erica my word, and I don't plan on letting this monster bully me into being afraid and quitting the show!" Daphne declares, her eyes radiating with a blazing, fiery determination that wasn't flickering just a second ago. "And Jordie and Erica are counting on us to be there so they can continue to hold this concert!"

Fred flinches as his head feels suddenly weightless, and his body steels itself like stakes being driven into the ground; in spite of the fact that Daphne's sudden proclamation catches him off guard, he manages to keep his voice calm.

"I'm with Daphne," Fred nods. "This monster may try to intimidate us, but I'm going to perform no matter what! Come on, gang; let's get to the library before it closes so we can research Goose Lake and see if we can find out anything else about this monster."

Velma snaps a photo of the Goose Lake Monster's photograph before the gang rise from their seats, and she grins sheepishly. "Officer Bradford said we would have to wait a day for copies of the report, but he will never know if we had a photo of the information we need on our phones," she says mischievously.

"Ugh, I forgot about returning these reports to mister ray of sunshine!" Daphne groans. "I'd rather not see him again."

Fred surprises himself by responding, "I'll run the reports in really quick so no one else has to deal with him; you guys just go wait for me in the Mystery Machine."

Fred sweeps the police reports together into one neat stack as he tosses the keys to the Mystery Machine to Shaggy, telling Shaggy to start the engine while Fred is gone. Fred walks briskly into the police station and eyes Officer Bradford behind the Plexiglas, resolving to simply leave the reports on the counter, thank the officer politely, and promptly return back to his friends before Bradford can say anything else to him; however, when Fred notes that the officer is no longer engaged in his phone conversation and is now smacking Fred with a seething glare that rivaled the heat of any fire, Fred knows he won't be escaping the police station all too quickly.

"Did you kids find whatever it was you were looking for in these reports?" Officer Bradford asks coolly as Fred places the manila folder face down on the counter.

Fred merely shrugs in response and musters his best attempt at being polite by plastering a smile on his face. "We aren't totally sure what we're trying to find out so far," Fred admits. "For now, we just want to learn as much as we can about this monster so we can see what it is we're up against."

Bradford grunts something unintelligible in response, and Fred waves at Officer Bradford as he turns on his heels and begins to move towards the exit. He is halfway to the door when he hears Bradford murmur huskily, "You know, you and the girl make a great couple."

Fred stops abruptly, reeling as though he has been punched in the face; he feels as though he has been unhooked from his body as he watches, detached and removed, as he spins slowly to face Bradford, studying the man's face for a hint of a joke.

"What did you say?" Fred asks as a thousand thoughts swirl around inside his head.

"I said, you and the girl make a great couple," Officer Bradford sniffs, speaking genuinely but still gruffly in his baritone voice. "That's why I'm going to warn you now; take your friends and leave Goose Lake, and don't perform at that concert. It's evident that monster is going to appear if the concert goes on as planned, and I don't want to see any of you getting hurt. Do I make myself clear?"

Helpless, Fred chokes and stammers, unsure of how to respond; does he refute this man's belief that he and Daphne are a couple, or does he reassure this officer that he and his friends are serious about their intentions to solve this mystery? His memory flips to a moment that occurred a week ago, when he and Daphne were investigating in Chicago, and Daphne had stuttered and vehemently protested the fact that she and Fred were a couple when Mel Richmond had also misinterpreted Fred and Daphne's friendship as a romantic relationship. Fred had done his best to dismiss her claims and tuck her remarks into the recesses of his mind as he plowed ahead in the investigation then, but he would be lying if he said her comments didn't confuse and even hurt him; now, however, now he finds himself having that same knee-jerk reaction to deny Bradford's assessment of him and Daphne, but the lump wedged in Fred's throat won't allow him to speak, and he can't articulate a single coherent thought.

"I – " was all Fred managed to push out before he felt himself wilt like a dying flower beneath Officer Bradford's intense glare. Bradford's words (and his subsequent warning) dangle in the air between the two men and clatter on the ground like a thousand beads, and Fred can't force Bradford's brassy voice out of his head as he dwells upon what the cop said – " _you two make a cute couple_." Fred knows how he should be responding right now; he knows how the script would read if he were running lines in a play or a movie, and Fred's forceful denial of he and Daphne being an established couple echoes within his brain like a mantra. But no matter how hard Fred tries, he can't make seem to dislodge this denial of their relationship from his throat, so it sits behind his tongue like a pill he can't seem to swallow as he simply waves to Officer Bradford and jogs towards the door, leaving the truth unspoken between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: For the video documentary mentioned here, I did actually take that from the Goose Lake documentary posted to YouTube. I also cited much of the Wikipedia page mentioned here. The only thing fabricated is the concert in present time, as that's fabricated for the purpose of this story. Please enjoy, and review if you feel inclined!

If Fred's favorite part of solving a mystery is assembling and employing a trap, then his least favorite part is the library research; that area is Velma's wheelhouse. For Velma, she enjoyed unraveling layer after layer of the mystery amongst the sprawling piles of yellowed, decaying books that were husks of what they were before thousands of people had dog-eared and fingered through the pages; for Fred, the library research just made his nose scratchy and itchy from the dust and the smell of the patrons' leather messenger bags. He knew that library research was a necessity woven into every case, but he preferred constructing something tangible with his hands, which would lead to the tsunami of emotions that washed over him when the monster was inevitably ensnared in his trap.

Regardless of Fred's distain towards library research, he resigns to dedicate his full attention to the next hour or so of pouring through books with tattered pages and browsing through endless webpages, if only because doing so will bring him that much closer to building the trap he has been envisioning in his mind since he and the gang left the police station. Fred eases into a parking space sandwiched in the middle of two SUVs, grateful that the drive to the library from the police station was only about five minutes long and much less awkward thanks to Velma's endless stream of discussion along the way; she didn't stop speculating about the case and Officer Bradford's cold demeanor for a single second, and the gang found themselves parroting her sentiments as she spoke.

As Fred leads the gang into the library, he is jolted by the fact that this building is noticeably tinier compared to most of the other libraries the gang had visited during past cases; however, in spite of its size, the library emits a warm and cozy, inviting aura. The smell of ink and old books envelopes Fred like a hug as he steps through the entrance with his friends, and the sound of a keyboard clattering echoes faintly in the air. Fred blinks as he surveys the young librarian perched behind the wooden counter and the mismatched colorful rugs strewn upon the weathered oak floors. Instead of the usual fluorescent lights, twinkling chandeliers dangle like stalactites from the ceiling, and chunky, claw-footed tables showcase a slew of new releases in various genres ranging from self-help to fiction. A cream colored couch flanks the back of the room, and a mini coffee table scratched with years of use is perched in front of the couch. Fred inhales, savoring the smell of pine and old books and freshly brewed coffee; like Goose Lake itself, Fred enjoys the rustic, homey feeling of this library, and he can't help but feel as though he has stepped back in time.

The librarian behind the wooden counter snaps her head up in the gang's direction as soon as they step inside, and she smiles so warmly at the gang that it tugs her entire face like a marionette string, loosening her jaw and revealing her perfect white teeth, which are straight as a row of chicklets. She lifts her arm in greeting towards Mystery Incorporated, and the fitted gold bracelets around her wrists jingle harmoniously as they slide down her arm.

"Hello there!" the librarian sings out as the gang approach her desk. Fred decides that he likes this librarian immediately; she has golden blonde hair with strawberry tendrils highlighted throughout the delicate curls that frame her face, and her infectious smile matches her bubbly, upbeat personality.

"We don't normally see visitors around Goose Lake!" the girl smiles as she offers a handshake to each member of the gang. "My name's Maddie, and I'm the librarian here. Who are you folks?"

Fred takes the initiative as the leader to introduce each member of the gang to Maddie, and each of his friends take turns pumping Maddie's hand vigorously as he moves down the line, even Scooby. But when Fred introduces himself and Daphne, he doesn't miss the way Maddie's eyes bounce back and forth between the two as a flash of recognition washes over her face like a tidal wave. Maybe it was because Erica's earlier outburst had prepared Fred, but he sensed what happened before it even occurred as this feeling of anxiety and dread surged through him the same way animals intrinsically sense storms or earthquakes.

"Oh my gosh, you're Fred and Daphne from _Talent Star_!" Maddie shrieks, standing up from her chair so abruptly that it topples to the ground. She rushed from behind the librarian counter to fold Fred and Daphne into a tight hug. "I am _such_ a huge fan; I loved the original song you guys sang in the finals, and that kiss at the end was so iconic! Oh, and I follow all the message boards on Reddit, and there's some really cool fan art that I just _love_ on DeviantArt and Tumblr, and the fans all gave you the cutest couple name, and it's –"

"Yeah, we heard about the nickname already," Fred slices into Maddie's excited babbling before she can continue. He knows he's being rude, but it all makes Fred dizzy, as though the library has tilted to one side as Maddie speaks; he can practically see the thousands of books sliding down the shelves helplessly, and his cheeks are so enflamed he is sure they will be singed crimson red forever. And what was she talking about with the fan art; were there really people out there who were illustrating depictions of him and Daphne? What even _was_ DeviantArt, anyway?! Fred mentally tucks this information away so he can investigate when he has a chance later today.

Velma chose to ignore all of the tension fizzling in the library in favor of solving the mystery. "Maddie, we're actually here to help solve the case of the Goose Lake Monster," Velma explains. "We thought it would be a good idea to research a bit in hopes of getting some clues for this case. Does this library have anything that can tell us about the first Goose Lake festival in the '70's? I think that would be a great start for our investigation."

Fred notices Maddie visibly deflate; a question flickers in her eyes as she gazes at Fred and Daphne, but at Velma's inquiry Maddie blinks, and much to Fred's relief, Maddie visibly straightens her back and resumes the professional demeanor she exhibited when the gang first arrived at the library.

"Oh yes, of course," Maddie replies. She sweeps her arm towards two rooms located in the back of the library. "That room on the right is actually filled with books concerning Michigan and local cities; we call it the local area section. If you're trying to learn about the original Goose Lake Festival, there's a good chance you'll find a book on it in there. The room just next door is a computer room, and it has a printer too, so you guys can print off anything you find online."

"Great, thanks so much, Maddie!" Fred sing-songs in an attempt to ooze kindness; he feels apologetic, and the guilt is bubbling inside of him over how he was so blatantly rude to Maddie only seconds ago. He hadn't truly meant to offend Maddie, but he just wanted to bury his head in the sand whenever someone mentioned the apparent pop culture obsession on all things Fraphne. If everything between he and Daphne weren't so tense and confusing then Fred may not have minded; in fact, his heart fluttered like a moth's wings behind his chest at the fact that so many other people saw him and Daphne as a compatible couple, one that was apparently worthy of flooding Reddit forums and drawing on DeviantArt. But if Daphne didn't view all of this favorably, then there was a chance she wouldn't even want to have a friendship with Fred any longer, and that was a thought that snagged Fred's heart like a woolly sweater unraveling on a nail.

"No problem, guys," Maddie says softly, and for a second Fred worries she is going to continue hedging about his relationship with Daphne, but Maddie just gestures to the librarian counter and adds, "I'll be right here if you all have any questions or need anything else!"

Fred guides his friends towards the two rooms in the back, and they pause at the threshold of the room containing literature on Goose Lake and the surrounding cities. He turns to his friends to suggest splitting up so they can cover more ground, and it's then that he notices Daphne's lips are pursed in a flat, tight line, and she is clenching her fists and digging her fingernails into her palms, carving tiny crescent moon-shaped lines onto her hands. Fred hadn't even chanced a glance in Daphne's direction earlier when Maddie was talking about Fraphne again, but now the thought flits across his mind that perhaps Daphne is angry with Fred for some reason, though he can't quite comprehend why that could be the case right now.

"We should split up to cover more ground," Daphne's voice is so serrated it causes Fred to flinch. "I'll go with Velma, and we'll research what we can about the original Goose Lake Music Festival online. Shaggy and Scooby, why don't you take Fred with you to read up on the local area surrounding the campground?"

A knot coils itself in Fred's stomach, and he can't help but notice how Daphne has not only usurped his role in this moment, but she also tacked Fred's name on as an afterthought in splitting up the groups. "And she didn't even address me," he mourns to himself. "She just acted like I wasn't even here."

Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby merely nod at the arrangement, and Fred feels his head bob along as well. He follows Shaggy and Scooby blindly into the nook, which houses two large wooden bookcases and five lavender vintage carts stacked with books. Instantly, Fred's nose reacts to the dust coated on the mahogany table that is perched in the middle of the room, and he remembers why this is his least favorite part about solving a mystery.

As soon as Shaggy hears the door in the room next door close and he is certain that the girls are unable to hear him, he levels a weighty look in Fred's direction and tucks the last few minutes into a simple but understated, "like, wow."

"You can say that again," Fred shakes his head dubiously. "Why is Daphne acting like I did something wrong?! And why did she decide to take the lead on splitting us into groups; that's my job!"

"Like, Fred, focus here!" Shaggy frames Fred's face with both of his hands and peers into Fred's eyes seriously. "I think it's, like, perfectly obvious why she's upset!"

"Rea reah, rit's obvious to me, roo!" Scooby barks.

"What are you guys talking about?" Fred crinkles his eyebrows together as Shaggy rolls his eyes and sighs with exasperation.

"Like dude, I think you do know what we're talkin' about, but you're like, just tryin' to avoid it," Shaggy guffaws. "Like, haven't you noticed how awkward things have been between the two of you since we left Chicago?! And like, she did not seem pleased when you shut down Maddie's talk about Fraphne!"

"Rich ris so radorable ri the way!" Scooby snickers when Shaggy recalls the Fraphne nickname.

Fred groans and throws his head into his hands despairingly.

"Okay, you think I haven't noticed how awkward things have been since we left _Talent Star;_ well, I'm not that dense!" Fred snaps. "But I have no idea what could be bugging her, and between all this awkwardness and everything that happened at the end of _Talent Star_ , it's all driving me crazy! Did she kiss me because she really likes me?! Or was it all part of the show?"

Fred sees Shaggy and Scooby swap over exaggerated eyerolls. He knows they're irritated because this is the exact same spiel Fred has given outside of Chicago just a week ago and about every single day since then, but he still can't stop himself from barreling ahead.

"…And does she know that _I_ really like _her_?" Fred exhales.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO SAY IT!?" Shaggy bellows before he and Scooby both chorus, "JUST TALK TO HER!"

"You guys don't understand! It's not that simple," Fred sighs, exasperated, as he plonks into a chair beside the mahogany table. Scooby and Shaggy grab the two chairs across from Fred and shove aside the stack of books that were left behind by a former patron, the library research long forgotten by this point.

"Like, what's not to understand?" Shaggy squints his eyes, perplexed. "I mean, like, admittedly, I'm not exactly an expert with the ladies, but like, I do think if someone kisses you on live TV, there's a pretty good chance it's because they like you, Fredster."

"Well then why hasn't she told me that yet?" Fred groans. "She's had a whole week to say something, and I'm pretty sure she would have mentioned it by now."

"Yeah, and like, you could have said something this past week too, old buddy old pal," Shaggy points out dutifully.

Fred grimaces, feeling as though Shaggy's words have formed a fist and are lodged directly in his gut.

"I mean, that's true," Fred concedes. "But I did try! I was so close to saying something when we left Chicago, but I could just tell that Daphne was about to tell me something important, so I let her go first, and then Velma cut her off and the moment just felt wrong after that. I guess I chickened out, but I remember Daphne was so quick to change the subject that I thought I would just make a fool of myself if I said something then."

"Like, look man, I know it isn't easy to be like, open about this kinda stuff," Shaggy says. "But you gotta figure it out one way or another! Are you really going to let this, like, hang over your head for the rest of your life?"

"I don't mean to sound like a broken record Shag, but you just don't get it," Fred explains. "I get the sense whenever Daphne hears someone mention the Fraphne stuff and Reddit and DevonArt – "

"Rits ReviantArt," Scooby corrects Fred helpfully.

" – that she's really uncomfortable and annoyed," Fred finishes as though Scooby hadn't interrupted. "And I'm not sure why she feels that way, but I'm really worried that it's because she doesn't even want to think about us as being something 'more than friends.' So that's why it's just easier to not say anything; if I decide to admit my feelings for her and I'm totally wrong, then it's going to be so detrimental to our friendship, and it could possibly even effect the rest of Mystery Incorporated, too."

"Like, Fred, I'm not goin' to sit here and pretend I have all the answers," Shaggy admits. "But like, I will say that it's obviously buggin' you, and it's obviously somethin' you can't stop thinkin' about, so for that reason alone, it might be totally worth askin' Daphne about that kiss. Like, all I know is I that Scoob and I can only handle listenin' to you moan and groan about the same questions for so long!"

"Reah reah!" Scooby nods his head eagerly in agreement.

"I get what you're saying, Shaggy, but I just don't think I can do it," Fred laments. "Trust me, I'll have to get past this one way or another, and eventually fans have to stop freaking out when they see us; I'm sure we'll be long forgotten by the time the next season of _Talent Star_ rolls around and there's a new flavor of the year on the show. It's just much easier to hide my feelings away than to risk losing Daphne as my friend. I mean, I've been hiding my feelings for this long, right? What could be the harm in staying quiet if it's worked for me for this long?"

"Like, I don't know buddy, but that doesn't seem like a good –"

"Fred, Shaggy, Scooby! WHAT are you three doing?!"

Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby jump about two feet in the air at the sound of Velma's voice clapping at them from the entrance of the doorway. She blinks at them with a furrowed forehead, nonplussed, and Fred attempts to still his thundering heart, which is thrumming so loudly he can hear it in his ears.

"Oh, uh, hiya Velma!" Shaggy chirps. "We were, uh, just discussing the case!"

Velma "mhmm's" incredulously and clucks her tongue.

"Well, I don't know what it is you guys were doing, but come in here and have a look at what Daphne and I have found online!" Velma exclaims. "We've stumbled upon a documentary on the original Goose Lake Music Festival, and we even found a Wikipedia page for it, too. We think we have some clues that could connect between the first concert and this case!"

Fred stands with Shaggy and Scooby and follows Velma, relieved to put this conversation about Daphne behind him for now. When Fred enters the computer room, his eyes immediately spot Daphne sitting in the light that splinters through the window above the computer, and Fred resolves to refrain from having anymore awkward interactions with her so things can go back to normal as soon as possible; after all, he told Shaggy he was adamant about keeping his friendship with Daphne intact, and that means he has to do his part to ensure there are no wrinkles in their conversations now.

"What did you girls find?" Fred addresses both Velma and Daphne, but he is looking at Daphne as he speaks, silently hoping that this question is enough to diffuse whatever tension remains between them both.

Fred catches Daphne blink, but then she seems to recover as she swivels the computer monitor so all five members of the gang can see it.

"Well, for starters, we found an old documentary uploaded to YouTube on the original Goose Lake Music Festival, and even though this all took place fifty years ago, Velma and I think there are some intriguing things mentioned in the film that could potentially lead to some clues for the case," Daphne explains.

Daphne presses the play button on the video labelled "Goose Lake Music Festival 1970," and the screen flickers and crackles with black and white static electricity, reminding Fred of the old VHS tapes his parents have stacked away in their basement. The first shot is an announcement detailing the dates of the music festival, but when the dates fade out the camera pans to a black and white shot of a man and woman sitting side by side. The man and women appear to be a middle aged, clean-cut couple, which Fred surmises from the woman's short, well-kept hair, and the man's crisp polo shirt. Both are sitting up straight, and their foreheads are slightly furrowed.

As the gang lean forward in anticipation, the woman nudges the man beside her and says, "You can say something."

The man narrows his eyes, confused. "What do you want me to say?"

"You should talk about the law enforcement agencies." The woman prompts.

The camera hones in on the man's face now, eliminating the woman from the frame as the screen zooms in on the man, who stutters for a moment as he collects his thoughts. As the man gathers his thoughts, starbursts of light streak across the video and the screen twitches from left to right, as though the gang are watching the video on an old television.

"I believe that if it hadn't been for the State police and the Sherriff's department, and you know, all the law agencies that we had out here, that there would have been more trouble," the man simply states. Fred raises an eyebrow, wondering exactly what the man implies by "trouble."

Now the screen abruptly flips to a new man, and he is obviously much older than the first couple being interviewed. He has little hair on his head, and what hair does remain looks wispy and white, and the wrinkles steeped in his face are prominent. He speaks with a drawl or an accent of some sort, and he seems less calm than the previous two people being interviewed.

"Why, I think it's the rottenest, most disgraceful thing I've ever heard of!" the man spits, his lips curling into a snarl as he talks. Off camera, an elderly female voice chimes in roughly, "God, Abe, we didn't sleep for two nights!"

"Yes, and I'm very much against that! And that's the way I been brought up, because I have self-respect; and I want to keep it!" The man echoes his female partner, and Shaggy and Scooby giggle at the man's outburst.

"Like, I guess I don't blame the old dude; after all, sleep is important!" Shaggy laughs as Velma elbows him in the side and hisses, "Pay attention!"

Now the camera pans to a sign that screams, "FOR SALE BY OWNER," and it pauses there briefly as the sound of a dog's bark and a woman's voice are audible in the background. A second later the camera slowly moves towards the woman speaking, and she is explaining, "We decided to put our home up for sale after the festival; we couldn't go through another one. The park property surrounds us, and we lost a lot of sleep."

The speakers blast and thrum with the loud screech of a guitar and a man crooning the lyrics to "All Along the Watchtower," but Velma leans over Daphne to pause the video and turns to Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby, who are standing in a ring around Daphne. "Well, what do we notice already in just the first two minutes of this documentary?" Velma inquires.

"Like, those people loved their sleep!" Shaggy guesses, a playful smile forming on his face.

"Well, Shaggy isn't wrong," Fred concedes. "But I think what's more telling here is the fact that they weren't getting enough sleep because of the noise level from the concert."

"And it seems like they're really resentful about this," Daphne muses. "Especially considering some of them went as far as selling their house and moving away just so they wouldn't have to hear the concert ever again, which is funny because it ended up being a one-time thing according to Jordie and Sid."

"So what makes you think this documentary may shed some light on the present day Goose Lake Music Festival, Velm?" Fred asks, not totally sure how the dots are connecting thus far.

"Well, this is just a hunch, but perhaps whoever is scaring off the locals at Goose Lake doesn't want to see this concert go on because it's a disgruntled civilian who lives on the fringes of the property and doesn't want to be up all night because of the noise level like the last concert," Velma surmises. "And I have something else to support that theory taken straight from the Wikipedia page; take a look at this, gang."

Velma slides her seat towards the computer docked next to Daphne's and maximizes the Wikipedia screen on her window, and the gang shift towards the other computer to skim the article written on the 1970 Goose Lake Music Festival.

Velma clicks the mouse and highlights a chunk of text underneath the heading "facilities and planning," which reads, "Before the festival, concerned local officials sought a temporary restraining order to prevent the event, but a judge denied the request."

"What do you all think?" Velma questions her friends.

"Wow," Fred whistles. "I think you girls have definitely stumbled upon what could be an intriguing link between the two concerts; the fact that the locals attempted to cancel the event through legal means is really interesting. I wonder if Jordie and Sid have seen any pushback to the same extent as there was with the first concert? If so, then maybe the monster really is someone who lives nearby and doesn't want to put up with the noise levels again?"

"I think it's definitely plausible," Daphne nods in agreement. "Maybe it would be worth interviewing some of the locals? That may be a good indicator as to whether or not they support the concert moving forward, and it could potentially open up some suspects, too."

"That's a good idea, but there's something I've been wondering from the very first interview in the film," Fred adds. "What did that man mean when he said the law enforcement helped contain some of the trouble at the concert?"

"So that's another interesting factor that I think may be a common denominator between the original concert and the one set to occur this weekend," Velma states. "In both cases, it appears as though there was adamant pushback from the Goose Lake police. Take a look at this sentence here."

Now Velma directs the computer mouse towards a heading labelled "Aftermath," and the cursor hovers over the paragraph below, which states, "There were 160 arrests made throughout the weekend, mostly on drug charges. Michigan attorney general said, 'I think we have seen the first and last rock concert of that size in Michigan.' The local police reminded everyone that this was why they were against the concert moving forward in the first place. The district attorney obtained an injunction barring any other public shows at the park. No further rock festivals took place at Goose Lake."

"The Wikipedia page hasn't been updated in quite some time, but I am assuming the injunction was repealed if Jordie and Sid have permission to move forward with the concert," Velma guesses. "But anyway, what I found interesting is how this page mentioned that the police were against the original Goose Lake concert. Now, compare that to this article I found online from the local newspaper."

Velma toggles between tabs on the internet browser until a newspaper article from the local paper is splashed on the computer screen. The news article features the same photo the gang saw earlier of the Goose Lake Monster, and Shaggy and Scooby shiver again at the sight of its pointed, shiny teeth, and its scaly green body. Velma scrolls towards the bottom of the page and points her finger at an illustration of Officer Bradford, who is photographed speaking to scared locals at Goose Lake.

"Do you guys notice anything suspicious here about our good pal Officer Bradford?" Velma smirks.

The caption beneath the photo reads, "Officer Bradford responds to the third Goose Lake Monster attack. Bradford and the rest of the Goose Lake Police Department believe that the concert must be cancelled immediately to prevent any future attacks from taking place."

Fred feels goosebumps waft over his skin, and a shiver snakes down his spine as he recalls the way Officer Bradford spoke to him earlier that day.

"Gang," Fred gulps. "Officer Bradford said something to me about how he thinks the concert should be cancelled when I was returning the police reports. I didn't think much of it, but now that I've seen this, I have to wonder if he could be the one who is behind all of this."

"Like, he sure didn't want to see you and Daph perform, that's for sure!" Shaggy points out, and Fred tries not to dwell on how Daphne ducks her head at the mention of her and Fred playing the revival show.

"He was definitely adamant about being opposed to the concert," Velma agrees. "And his whole personality sure was unusual, too; even Erica mentioned that he was fishy before we met him. Maybe he's the Goose Lake Monster? It would make sense considering the police are once again resisting the idea of another rock concert."

"It seems like the fans and the bands playing the show were well aware of the police being opposed to the concert, too," Daphne exclaims. "Watch this clip from later on in the film."

The gang shift back again to face Daphne's screen, and Fred baulks when his fingers accidently graze her shoulder as he twists to face the computer monitor. He tries not to notice the crackling of the sparks beneath his fingertips when he touches her, nor the way a soft blush seeps into Daphne's cheeks, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he attempts to focus on the documentary.

Daphne skips to the 22-minute mark, and the documentary has shifted from black and white to full color, so now Fred notes every detail in the shot. The man speaking talks with a slow southern accent, and he fiddles with the brown cowboy hat perched on his head as he gazes out into the throngs of half-naked people scattered in the audience.

"Okay folks, we got a short announcement here that we gotta make, and it's gonna be pretty important, so we need everybody's attention," the man shrills into the microphone, and the camera wavers between shots of the long-haired man as he speaks and the crowd listening to his announcement. "Now uhh, there's gonna be some of us leavin' today, and uhh, there's gonna be a man waitin' outside, and he's gonna want to discuss things with you, so we got some things to tell ya now so you know how to be cool."

"Like, who is the man he's talking about?" Shaggy interrupts.

"He's talking about the police, Shaggy," Velma retorts. "Now shhh!"

"You're to object to any search, and you're to remember to not get hassled and to not say things you wish you hadn't of," the man's drawls. "because they'll be sure to use it. Now, if you do get busted, be sure and object to you bein' searched, and uhhh, give only your name and fingerprints, and if you don't have a lawyer, ask for a court-appointed lawyer."

Daphne pauses the video.

"So this just backs up our theory about the police's unfavorable position towards the crowds," Velma declares. "And it certainly seems as though there is that same mutual hostility between the police and concert goers with this year's revival show; it was clear that Erica and her father were not a fan of Bradford, and we know Officer Bradford definitely wants the concert cancelled. I think it would be wise to keep our eyes on Officer Bradford, gang."

Daphne shuts down her computer and the monitor turns black as Velma absentmindedly scrolls further down in the news article. A photo of Elliott beaming on stage as he strums his acoustic guitar pops up towards the bottom of the article, alongside a small portion of text that reads, "As of this time, Elliott Finn is currently the only musical act slated to appear on the bill for the Goose Lake Revival Concert, as the other eleven acts have dropped due to the Goose Lake Monster. When asked why he is determined to play the concert in spite of the play, Finn stated that he the performance will encourage a decent crowd and bolster pre-sales of his first album, which he says have been disappointingly low thus far."

"Poor Elliott," Daphne tuts. "I feel sorry for him; first his record sales have been low, and now he has to deal with the threat of the monster at this concert. We have to do this for him just as much as for Sid, Jordie, and Erica!"

Velma glances down at her watch and pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Well gang, if it's okay with you, I think we should probably head back to Goose Lake. Elliott mentioned that he wanted us to watch his dress rehearsal tonight, so we should take a break from this mystery to support him. Since it's getting late, we'll just turn in for the night after his rehearsal, and tomorrow we can look into interviewing the locals at Goose Lake, and maybe we'll pay Officer Bradford another visit, as well."

"Yeah, and like, besides, Fred and Daphne need to see what they're, like, up against tonight!" Shaggy flashes a Cheshire cat grin at Fred and Daphne as Scooby snickers. "After all, the concert's, like, only a few days away!"

At the mention of the impending show and his duet with Daphne, Fred suddenly feels the looming days grab him tight, squeezing him around the throat and causing him to gasp; his ribs may as well splinter from the force, bone dust filling him up. Fred knew he had vowed to Shaggy and Scooby that he was going to ensure that the friendship between him and Daphne would remain intact, but how was that possible if they were forced to sing together with all of this awkwardness between them? And would the added stress of this mystery be too much for Fred to handle? Fred's insides sputtered as though he were inhaling the sharp tinge of anxiety instead of the library's dusty oxygen, and for once, he understood why Shaggy and Scooby would rather eat and sleep all day than solve a mystery.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Thanks so much to Fanfic is Life, DarkHeart89, and Sarah H for reviewing this fic; I'm really happy people are enjoying this so far! Just a couple of quick notes before we get started here:
> 
> \- I obviously am not Morrissey nor Johnny Marr, so I therefore do not own the lyrics to "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths.  
> \- The original song Elliott sings here was written by me for the purpose of this fic, so it isn't taken from anywhere else.  
> \- The original Goose Lake concert in 1970 did indeed have the rotating stage alluded to in this chapter.
> 
> Also I just realized as I was revising this chapter that I keep referencing how this concert is a 50 year revival and this takes place over the summer of 2020, so uh, let's just pretend this is an alternate universe and there is no Covid and life is perfect again, lol.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading - please review if you feel inclined! I hope to update really soon.
> 
> iamacliche

When Mystery Incorporated returns to Goose Lake, Elliott's dress rehearsal is already well under way. Erica and Jordie are sprinting around the stage, aiming stage lights at Elliott, who is already sitting on the stage wearing his evergreen flannel shirt and strumming his fingers absentmindedly across the tan acoustic guitar perched on his lap. To the right of the stage, Sid is flipping through the pages of a clipboard and murmuring to himself while simultaneously glancing between his watch, keeping his fingers on the clock's pulse as though he can't afford to fall behind a single second. The sharp tinge of excitement permeating the air is so prominent that it's almost tangible; even though Fred has known about this performance for several hours now, it's in this moment that he fully realizes he is about to perform on stage in front of hundreds of people once more, and the nerves flutter like moth's wings beneath his skin.

As the gang approach the front of the stage, a smile ghosts across Elliott's face.

"Hey, I'm glad you all could make it to my dress rehearsal!" Elliott beams, gazing directly at Fred and Daphne. "I've especially been hoping the two of you would show up so that you guys could get a taste of my music ahead of Saturday. But when am I going to hear you guys sing? I think it's only fair if I get a sample of your sound, too!"

A shiver branches across Fred's back, and he ignores his hammering heart as it knocks against his ribcage; it's amazing how the simple thought of performing with Daphne has such a profound effect on his cardiovascular system.

"Oh, we don't need to rehearse, Elliott, so I guess you'll just have to wait and be surprised for a few days from now!" Daphne waves Elliott's suggestion away, and Fred is unsure why he feels himself deflate like a balloon. "Fred and I practiced plenty of times leading up to our _Talent Star_ run, and we've performed together a lot, so I think we'll be more than ready for the concert this weekend."

"Actually Daphne, we need the two of you to run through a dress rehearsal, as well," Jordie chirps as he and Erica approach the gang with a smile. "It's customary for musicians to run through their setlist before performing; I'm surprised the two of you don't already know about that from _Talent Star_!"

Daphne giggles nervously and Fred squirms, pinned beneath Erica's stare; she runs her hands through her vibrant sapphire hair, and her eyes leap between Fred and Daphne curiously as she asks, "Do you two even have a setlist planned for the concert? Ideally, we would like you guys to have ten or eleven songs, or even more than that, really."

Erica's words twine around Fred's chest like a rope, constricting and squeezing him until he sputters. "Ten or eleven songs?!" he rasps. He and Daphne only have one original song, unless one were to count the impromptu song they sang in the finals…

"Well, Erica is overshooting a bit," Jordie corrects his daughter. "Ten might be a bit lengthy, especially since you folks are helping us out at last second and we would hate to add even more stress on top of this mystery. We'll have Elliott play a lengthier setlist since he'll be the headlining act anyway, but we would still like you both to have a minimum of five or six songs."

Fred is simultaneously rooted to the ground and vibrating with white hot panic, and Daphne's face drains of any color, her lips pursed in a tight, thin line.

Jordie hikes an eyebrow as he lobs an inquisitive look at Fred and Daphne.

"You two _do have_ at least five songs you can perform for the concert in a few days, _right_?" Jordie hedges, his voice rising an octave with concern.

"Uh, well," Fred coughs as Daphne stutters, "We, ah –"

Luckily for Fred and Daphne, Erica smiles sweetly, thawing the frigid atmosphere.

"It sounds like the two of you still need to plan, but that's okay!" Erica says with a smile so bright that it seems to shine out of every pore on her body. "If _Talent Star_ is any indication of your capabilities, I know the power of Fraphne will pull through!"

Before Fred has a chance to register the burn on his cheeks when Erica once again mentions Fraphne, Elliott swivels towards Mystery Incorporated and shouts, "Hey, that reminds me! Did you guys have any luck talking with Officer Bradford today?"

"And did you, like, find any leads for this case, man?" Sid pipes up, lowering his clipboard at the mention of the mystery.

"We did have a chance to speak with Officer Bradford, as a matter of fact," Velma responds.

"And he's, like, such a prince," Shaggy deadpans as Scooby sniggers.

"Well, as Shaggy said, we definitely see what Erica meant about Bradford," Daphne interjects. "He certainly is a shady character, so he's definitely our first suspect, and perhaps our main suspect as of now."

"To his credit, he did show us some of the reports from the Goose Lake Monster's attacks, and we did get a visual of the monster, too," Fred clarifies. "But he did resist showing the reports to us initially, and he also advised me and Daphne to pull out of the concert, too."

"But why would he say that?!" Erica gasps. "I mean, I always knew he wasn't the biggest fan of this show, but he knows how hard my dad and I have been working to put this revival show together for this past year!"

"All he told me was that he foresees another attack from the Goose Lake Monster," Fred explains. "Which is interesting, because if his prediction is correct, then doesn't that imply he knows the monster will attack again because _he is_ the monster? Was he trying to threaten us with that warning?"

"I think that's a bit of a stretch, Fred," Jordie speculates. "Officer Bradford, although cold and easily angered, has been serving our community for several years. I just can't see what would compel him to sabotage our show."

"Well, that's the other thing we learned today," Velma interrupts. "We visited the Goose Lake Library after speaking with Bradford, and we found a documentary and a Wikipedia article on the original concert in 1970; apparently, the police officers were opposed to the original show as well, and there was tons of animosity between the fans and the cops during the concert."

From the side of the stage, a deep, throaty laugh emerges from deep within Sid's gut.

"Like, man, she's right!" Sid bellows, his body convulsing with waves of laughter. "I almost forgot all about that, man! The pigs were all over us when we left the concert. They wouldn't stop asking us if we were, like, drunk or high, and they hounded us like dogs."

"That is certainly an interesting parallel," Jordie admits. "And with Officer Bradford's suspicious behavior, I see why you don't want to dismiss it entirely. Did you learn anything else today when you were at the library?"

"The only other potential suspect for now, or I guess, _suspects_ , would be the locals who live around Goose Lake," Daphne answers. "We also found out that the citizens of the original Goose Lake Concert were extremely upset at the noise level from the concert all weekend; in fact, many of them even put their homes up for sale so they would never have to deal with it again."

"That's why we hope to interview the neighborhood that borders Goose Lake at some point tomorrow," Velma states. "We're going to see if any of the locals feel strongly about the revival show, and if they do, we could consider one of the locals as the potential suspect since it's extremely possible that the civilians are once again opposed to the show."

"I think that's a great idea!" Erica says radiantly. "That will definitely add to or eliminate your list of suspects, and besides, I'm curious to see if the locals are against the concert, too. We sold through all our tickets fairly quickly, but it looks like they're from people all over the state, so the show won't consist only of people who live in this area."

"It's definitely a possibility that it's an aggravated citizen," Jordie concedes. "Well, regardless of what you learn tomorrow, I am just so grateful you kids have taken the initiative to not only perform in our show, but to help us with the pesky monster, as well! Seriously, we are so thankful for your help."

Fred feels his heart swell several sizes, and his chest is warm; solving mysteries is always personally gratifying, but what's even better is assisting someone who is truly in need.

"And speaking of your performance, I want to return to our discussion about the dress rehearsals," Jordie says pointedly as he eyes Fred and Daphne carefully. "Maybe we could ask you two to run through a practice show before you all head out to interview some of the locals tomorrow?"

"We promise we won't take up too much of your time!" Erica chirps.

"Sure, we don't mind if you need to borrow them!" Velma answers for Fred and Daphne, her voice unusually bubbly and upbeat. "We'll just plan to interview people after their dress rehearsal ends, so if you want to plan for them to practice in the morning, we'll just head out in the afternoon."

"Perfect! I can't wait to hear you guys perform live tomorrow!" Erica squeals and claps her hands animatedly.

Fred feels as though someone has reached into his lungs and snatched his breath away; how are he and Daphne supposed to have a dress rehearsal when they know only one or two songs? It would take weeks to write lyrics and then weeks piled on top of that to compose the appropriate melody for a single song, so how would they be prepared for their rehearsal in less than twelve hours?

"Ugh, I just realized I forgot to buy some Fiji water!" Elliott moans, carving through Fred's spiraling thoughts. "I always have to perform with my favorite brand of water."

"Oh, no problem, Dad or I can grab you a water, Elliott!" Erica offers helpfully. "We have plenty of water bottles inside the refrigerator in the office."

"Like, unfortunately dudes, Elliott is kinda particular about his water," Sid explains. "But it's okay my man, because that's what managers are here for, right? I'll just hurry out and grab you a few right now!"

"Thanks so much, Sid," Elliott smiles appreciatively at his manager. "I don't mean to be over dramatic or anything, but I really do play better when I have my Fiji water. I think I spotted a small convenient store just up the road; here, you can even take my car. And make sure you grab a Fiji water for yourself too, Sid!"

Elliott fishes the car keys out of his denim pocket and tosses the keys in a neat arc to Sid's outstretched hand.

"All right my man, I'll be back in a bit!" Sid trills, waving to everyone as he steps away. "I promise I'll, like, be quick!"

As the sound of the engine dims as Sid drives away, Jordie says, "Well, even though Sid isn't here and we would like to wait, I do want to end this rehearsal sooner rather than later; it's getting dark outside, and I have some paperwork I need to finish in the office before tomorrow morning. Elliott, do you mind if we get started in about 15 minutes? I know you said you needed your water, but Sid should be back before then, and if he's not, we'll run through a few songs and then take a small water break when he returns."

"That's no problem," Elliott smiles, his face glistening beneath the stage lights. "I can make it through a couple songs without some water, and I don't want to inconvenience anyone."

"Great!" Jordie exclaims. "Let's keep setting up in the meantime; I just need to adjust that stage light on the far end of the stage. Erica, do you mind making sure the monitors are ready to go?"

"Sure thing, Dad!" Erica replies, already moving towards the stage to assist her father.

Elliott continues to tweak and tune his guitar, and as the gang moves toward the front of the stage to claim their spots on the grass so they can watch Elliott perform, Fred tries to still the thoughts swirling in his head. In just under twelve hours, instead of Elliott plucking his guitar strings on stage, it will be Fred, and he'll be standing just a few feet away from Daphne as she sings, only this time he's certain that unlike in Chicago a week ago, the stage will buzz and hum with all the unspoken words curling between them both like smoke. And now that Jordie and Erica have asked Fred and Daphne to perform at least five songs, Fred knows this implies that he and Daphne will have to collaborate at some point between now and early tomorrow morning to cobble together some sort of playlist, which also means staying up late tonight to discuss song selections, and that isn't something the two have done since they poured hours into practicing for the final weeks of _Talent Star_.

When the gang are about ten feet in front of the stage, Fred notices Velma's eyes are roving between where Jordie and Erica are setting up on stage and Fred and Daphne. Before Fred can ask what is on her mind, Velma says lightly, "Uh, I think I'm going to see if Erica needs any help with setting up. Shaggy and Scooby, why don't you guys go see if Jordie needs anything?"

"Like, no thanks Velma, I'm – OOOF!" Shaggy winces as Velma elbows him in the side abruptly and mouths something indiscernible. Immediately, Shaggy's face lights up like a Christmas tree as his eyes flicker towards Fred mischievously, and for some unexplainable reason Fred feels his stomach knot.

"I mean, like, Scoob and I would love to help Jordie!" Shaggy and Scooby immediately saunter towards Jordie, asking if they can be of assistance as Jordie raises a microphone in front of Elliott's face and checks a pedal on the ground by Elliot's feet. As Velma glides towards Erica, Fred could have sworn he saw Velma peek behind her and mouth, "Just talk already!," but when he blinks his eyes Velma is already standing beside Erica, who appears to be finished setting up, and the two girls stand on the side of the stage joking and laughing.

And just like that, Fred and Daphne are standing together, just the two of them, and the tingling sensation in Fred's spine tells him that his friends have planned this on purpose. He knows this is the perfect opportunity to talk with Daphne and prove that their friendship has not been strained by the kiss, but the silence balloons between them, rising and swelling like bread dough; Fred's chest feels strained, as though the silence is physically pushing against his stomach, and he imagines his heart ripping open as the repressed emotions and words gush out in a hot, spewing torrent of blood. He contemplates making up an excuse to join Shaggy and Scooby with assisting Jordie, but Daphne suddenly speaks and Fred doesn't hear a single word she's said; his heart pounding in his ears is the only noise he registers.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Fred asks lamely.

Daphne clears her throat and repeats, "I said, Jordie and Erica really surprised me when they said we would need to perform at least five songs for the concert this weekend. I have no idea how we're going to manage to pull that off for tomorrow's dress rehearsal."

Fred's breathing is less labored and his hands, which he hadn't noticed were trembling, cease to shake; if he can manage to keep things in safe territory with Daphne and discuss their performance in a professional manner, then maybe there's hope for their friendship, after all. And besides, he knew that sooner or later, he and Daphne would have to start finalizing a setlist.

"Oh I know, I thought my heart was about to stop when Erica said that," Fred agrees. "So what are we going to do now? We don't have enough songs, and we sure as hell don't have the time to write more songs by tomorrow morning's rehearsal!"

Daphne furrows her forehead, deep in thought, before she snaps her fingers and proclaims, "Well, it isn't ideal, but maybe we should just settle on three or four songs that we could cover by other artists? I mean, Jordie even said he didn't want to add to our stress, and we aren't even the headlining act, so I can't imagine it would be a big deal; plus, like you said, we're running on a time crunch at this point."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Daph!" Fred replies warmly; he thinks he sees the faintest blush rise from her neck, but it's gone in an instant. "I could probably learn most songs fairly quick on my acoustic guitar between now and the concert, and it's so easy to look up the tabs online. Do you have any ideas for which songs we could cover?"

By now, Shaggy, Scooby, and Jordie are ambling away from Elliott, who leans forward and speaks clearly into the microphone, "Testing, one two three, test, test, test." Fred expects Shaggy and Scooby to break away from Jordie and return to him and Daphne to watch Elliott perform with them, but to his surprise, they tuck themselves on the side of the stage beside Velma and Erica, and Fred is slowly starting to realize that he may be spending the duration of the rehearsal alone with Daphne. Normally, this might make his heart flutter, but his shoulders relax when he realizes that they won't be forced to talk since they'll be too busy listening to Elliott. Maybe watching Elliott without their friends will diffuse the awkwardness between them, and then performing together will be seamless; Fred could practically see the tension melting and washing away like watercolor paint.

"We can always decide on a setlist after Elliott's performance," Daphne raises her voice over the sound of the speakers crackling as Erica adjusts the volume of the monitors offstage. Jordie bounds back onto the stage to fiddle with the pedal beside Elliott once more as Daphne shudders, and it's then that Fred notices the daylight has been steadily absorbed by the evening sky; the night air bites and stabs at his skin, in spite of the fact that the day was pleasantly warm earlier, and Fred shivers.

When Elliott notes Fred and Daphne reacting to the weather change, he laughs lightly. "I can always tell when someone isn't from Michigan when they aren't used to the weather," Elliott calls to them as Jordie finalizes the microphone's height and triple checks the pedal. "We have a joke here in Michigan that we experience all four seasons in one day; just be sure to have layers on so you can add and remove clothing as the weather dips and rises, and you'll be fine!"

Fred doesn't typically mind the cold weather, especially when he's wearing a jacket, like he is now; however, one glance at Daphne tells him that she has to be suffering in her short sleeved purple dress and her sheer tights. When he sees the goosebumps snaking down her arms, he instinctively slips his jacket off his arms and drapes it around her shoulders, and his face burns when Daphne jolts, surprised at the gesture.

"Oh, ah, I couldn't do that to you, Fred – " Daphne begins.

"Really, I don't mind," Fred insists, trying to keep his voice calm as his thoughts threaten to reveal the jumble of nerves taut in his stomach. Daphne flashes him a grateful smile, and for the first time in a week, Fred allows himself to hope that maybe everything is going to be all right between him and Daphne.

"Okay Elliott, Daphne, Fred: on the day of the show, we'll have Daphne and Fred perform as the opening act, and Elliott will be the headliner," Jordie says excitedly as he begins moving off stage. "Now, the original Goose Lake concert was also noteworthy for having a rotating stage, which was totally unheard of before then, but we had to forgo that since all of our other acts dropped from the concert."

"A rotating stage?" Daphne asks, raising her eyebrows curiously.

"So the intention of the rotating stage was to have one band begin performing their set as the one on stage was wrapping up," Jordie explains. "And then as soon as the band on stage finished, they would call, 'Have a great night!' and then the second band would just swivel around to face the audience and launch right into their set; that way, the music was literally never-ending since it sort of blended together, and it went on a loop. It really made things more fun because it kept the party going. Poor Sid needed to use the restroom at one point and decided he would go during a break, but that never happened, so he held it for the entire day," Jordie chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief over his friend's antics during his younger days before he adds, "Sid and I envisioned the rotating stage for the original revival show, but, well, you know." Jordie sweeps his hands vaguely at the lake before them, indicating that what simmered beneath the murky waters had prevented the additional feature.

Fred nods sympathetically; not for the first time, his dreamlike perception of the upcoming concert is encrusted with the nightmare lining of the reality that is the Goose Lake Monster.

Jordie's eyes flit towards the watch on his wrist, and he clears his throat as he smiles at Elliott politely and says, "Elliott, I know we were all hoping for Sid to return, but would it still be all right if we get through at least two or three songs for now? I'm sure he'll be back with your water any minute now."

"Sure, no problem, Jordie!" Elliott beams, and everyone begins to clap with polite anticipation as Jordie hops off stage to stand beside his daughter and Shaggy, Scooby, and Velma again. Elliott grins playfully at Fred and Daphne, his dimples tugging the edges of his smile, and he speaks into the microphone, "All right Fred and Daphne, I hope you're ready for this! I need to promote my record sales for my first album, so I plan to tear up the stage in a few days."

Fred recalls the newspaper article hinting at Elliott's disappointingly low presales, and his cheers are a bit louder than usual to signal his support. Elliot ducks his head, momentarily bashful, and his curly chestnut hair flops over his face as he begins to strum his guitar. "This song is a cover by The Smiths," Elliott announces into the microphone before launching into an acoustic cover of "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out," which Fred recognizes instantly from his elementary school days when he would visit his Aunt Lucy and Uncle Pete and their house swelled with the sound of music and laughter and warm sugar cookies cooling on the kitchen counter every time he walked through the door.

"See, if Elliott is performing a cover song, then we'll be fine!" Daphne smiles as she elbows Fred lightly, and he just nods as he allows the lyrics to wash over him like a tidal wave.

"Yeah, that's a relief!" Fred sighs. "And Elliott sounds really good, too."

It's true; Fred is admittedly biased because he has a fondness for the song, but he is really enjoying Elliott's take on The Smiths. Elliott's voice has a folksy tone reminiscent of Iron and Wine or Death Cab for Cutie, and the acoustic guitar paints the already grotesque yet syrupy sweet song lyrics with even more saccharine. When Elliott croons the lyrics, Fred finds himself absorbing the words.

" _And if a double-decker bus_

_Crashes into us_

_To die by your side_

_Is such a heavenly way to die,_

_And if a ten-ton truck,_

_Kills the both of us_

_To die by your side, well_

_The pleasure, the priviledge is mine."_

As the chorus unspools around Fred and Daphne, he unconsciously glances in her direction as Elliott sings about dying beside the love of his life at the hands of a ten-ton truck. Daphne's face is turned upward towards Elliott as he sings, and her eyes are glimmering and her face is flushed, but Fred isn't sure if it's from the hauntingly beautiful song or Elliott's smooth voice, or something else entirely. Whenever Elliott circles back around to the chorus and his voice cracks over the line about dying beside someone, Fred feels something he can't describe blossom inside his chest, and when his eyes involuntarily stray towards Daphne, his body feels simultaneously hot and cold; just the sight of her wearing his pale blue jacket and her rosy cheeks and her pink bubblegum lips makes his body feel as though it is now entirely constructed of nerves, as though sinewy muscle and bone have been removed to fill the tips of his fingers and the cavity in his chest with this hazy, warm emotion he feels for Daphne. Fred isn't sure if it's the lyrics that make him think this way, or the kiss from last week that scars Fred's lips (and causes him to touch his mouth absentmindedly from time to time), or Daphne's physical presence that has Fred's thoughts spiraling out of control, but for the first time Fred is starting to seriously doubt what he had told Shaggy about remaining "just friends" with Daphne.

Elliott ends the song with a final shout of declaration instead of allowing the guitar to taper out as The Smiths do in the original song, and everyone claps and whistles and cheers earnestly.

"Thanks, everyone," Elliott says modestly. He fiddles with the microphone's height before he leans back into the chair again, and he says huskily, "This next song is an original track written by your's truly, and it's about the delicate, confusing area that dwells between friends and lovers; it's called 'Reversal.'"

Instantly Fred chokes as though he has swallowed a jawbreaker whole, and Daphne squirms beside him. He ignores his hammering heart and the voice in his head that wonders how Elliott somehow has managed to vocalize Fred's thoughts and emotions aloud. As Elliott begins to strum his guitar, sliding into the second song, Fred listens to the lyrics carefully.

" _I swallow you like a pill_

_And you slide right down my throat,_

_Then you exercise your will_

_As you filter through my veins._

_You climb the rungs of my ribs_

_And if I said I hated it, girl,_

_Then I'd be telling fibs._

_You set your sights on my heart_

_But then it seems it's over_

_Before it can even start._

_So tell me what's on your mind_

_Cause I can't figure out,_

_If you want me to stay, or leave it all behind."_

Every nerve is on fire beneath Fred's skin, and he's too afraid to look at anyone for fear that they're staring at him; it's as though Elliott is broadcasting all the raw, tender parts aching inside Fred from this last week, and he knows the pain is written all over his face. When Elliott sings " _it seems it's over / Before it can even start_ ," Fred can't help but flash back to last week in Chicago when Daphne's lips were pressed against his, and the kiss caused his heart to expand and his thoughts to blur as his head spun, and when she pulled away from him he had felt relieved, almost victorious, certain that the kiss had signaled the start of something; however, just like Elliott's song stated, their romantic relationship had apparently ended before it could even properly begin. Fred struggled to admit it to even himself, but he had been reeling from that stinging realization ever since the kiss. Until Fred heard Elliott vocalize his own emotions, Fred hadn't realized the extent of his pain and conflict; now that it's smacking him in the face and crushing his chest, how is he supposed to go back to ignoring his true feelings for Daphne? How is he expected to simply mute the screams in his head and carry on as though there isn't a noticeable ripple running through their every interaction?

Fred is too consumed with his own thoughts to notice the tendrils of smoke that curl and wisp around his ankles and tickle his nose, until Elliott stops singing and shoots a perplexed look towards Erica and Jordie.

"Hey guys, I didn't ask for any smoke or props for my show," Elliott calls out in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Uhh, that isn't us, Elliott," Erica retorts, her voice wobbling with fear. "Dad? Did you do that?"

But Jordie doesn't even seem to hear Erica; he's too busy staring at something behind Elliott, and he raises a shaky finger and screams, "Oh no, he's here! Elliott, look out behind you!"

Elliott slowly swivels in his chair as he follows Jordie's finger, and when he clocks the nine-foot-tall iguana towering above him and the burning, scarlet eyes and the webbed hands with the prominent, sharp nails, Elliott unleashes a scream that rattles every bone in Fred's body at the same moment the Goose Lake Monster releases a primal, blood-curdling shriek. Before Fred can even react, a cloud of thick smoke bellows out from the stage, and the last thing he sees is the Goose Lake Monster clamp its slimy hand over Elliott's mouth, which effectively silences his cries as everyone is completely submerged in fog. As the smoke expands, Fred feels as though the fog is penetrating his mind and muddling his thoughts and lodging inside his throat, and he sputters and coughs, squinting as he tries to locate Elliott and the monster, but the smoke is impenetrable as Fred's surroundings are quickly swallowed up by the fog.

"Elliott! Where are you?!" Fred calls out.

There's a shrill, desperate scream in response, and the adrenaline slams through Fred's veins as he runs on pure instinct, knowing that even though he's essentially blind right now, he has to try and save Elliott from the monster one way or another, but it's useless; Fred's body smashes into what appears to be the stage and he gasps, all the air gushing out of his chest from the impact as he doubles over on the ground. He can hear Erica and Jordie and his friends crying and screaming for Elliott in the smoke, and he balls his hands into fists, feeling utterly powerless while knowing he can't simply give up and allow the monster kidnap Elliott. Fred manages to pull himself up from the grass and jumps, attempting to haul his body onto the stage from the ground, but it's no use; the stage is far too tall, and even without the smoke, he would never be able to scale the front of the stage.

As the smoke slowly dissipates, Fred turns and begins to run to the side of the stage so he can climb the stairs when someone slams into him, hard, and through the haze Fred sees Daphne fly back from the collision. His arms snake around her back before she can fall just as her hands shoot out and find purchase around his neck, which brings them chest-to-chest and causes Fred to stammer as though he's lost all language, and when Daphne mutters, "Oh, Fred! I – I'm sorry," Fred turns his head to look at her just as she turns her face upward to stare into his eyes, and somehow in the process her lips accidentally brush against his cheek, and her touch makes everything inside of him spark and crackle. He feels like an overcharged battery; he has never, ever touched anyone like this before and felt this way, as though he his holding electricity inside of him, and he stares into Daphne's bright emerald eyes as she gazes back at him, mesmerized as the events around them dissolve into nothing.

"Elliott, where are you?!"

Erica's cries cut through the fog in Fred's brain and the literal fog, snapping him out of his reverie; he almost drops Daphne out of shock, but he grabs her by the hands and tugs her up. He points towards the staircase and yells, "C'mon, we have to save Elliott!"

By now the fog is beginning to thin as Fred sprints towards the stairs with his hand laced in Daphne's. He can see his shoes as they slap the staircase, and he gradually begins to see a few feet in front of him as he leads Daphne towards the middle of the stage. Fred pauses, listening silently and intensely for Elliott's cries or the Goose Lake Monster's shrieks; instead, he hears the strain in Jordie's voice as he pleads for the monster to take him instead of Elliott; he sees Shaggy and Scooby to his right, holding each other and trembling with pure terror; he feels Erica's gut-wrenching sobs ripple through his chest as Velma attempts to comfort her. There is no sign of Elliott, nor the Goose Lake Monster.

Fred inhales sharply in an attempt to still the tornado of thoughts and emotions churning inside of him, and his eyes frantically dart around in an attempt to find Elliott or the monster as the smoke finally begins to fade. He tells himself the monster is outnumbered and he can't possibly get away with kidnapping Elliott, and he clings to this glimmering, fading thought hysterically, stubbornly refusing to believe that this is truly happening right now. But when the smoke finally clears, it's just Fred, Jordie, Erica, and the rest of Mystery Incorporated blinking at each other on stage, and it's then they're all forced to face the sinking feeling that the Goose Lake Monster – and Elliott – are truly gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe how many people are into this fic! Thanks so much for all of your kind and consistent reviews. Please enjoy this newest update!

As Erica retreats from the Goose Lake Office, her steps are slow and somber, as though she is marching in a funeral procession; her eyes, which are normally shining with mischief, are dull, and her skin is pasty white, devoid of any color. When she reaches the gang, who are bunched around the front of the stage where Daphne and Fred had watched Elliott perform only minutes ago, she says grimly, "I just called Officer Bradford, and he's on his way right now. He didn't sound too pleased about coming down for another Goose Lake Monster appearance, but I guess that isn't so shocking."

Jordie, who is normally calm and collected, kicks the ground aggressively, which takes Fred by surprise, and he curses loudly, "Goddamit, I don't care if he's sick of all the phone calls, we needed him here like ten minutes ago; people's lives are at stake here, for Christ's sake!"

"It just doesn't add up," Daphne sighs. "Why would the Goose Lake Monster want to kidnap Elliott?"

"I have no idea, but I have to take full responsibility for this one," Jordie replies tightly. "This is all my fault; if I hadn't insisted on going forward with the show, Elliott would have never gotten kidnapped. And who knows what else could have happened! That freak could have taken one of you kids, or Erica. I know the monster made it clear that he did not want the show to happen, but I never thought he would resort to kidnapping."

"What's even worse is that now we have no headliner for our show," Erica laments, her forehead creased as the tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. "I guess we're going to have to cancel the show now, Daddy."

"Oh, that goes without saying, sweetheart!" Jordie groans. "Daphne, Fred, kids: I am so sorry to pull the rug out from under your feet here, but we just can't risk putting your lives in danger now. It's bad enough that Elliott was kidnapped; what if the monster targets one of you next? Or worse yet, what if he tries to hurt someone in the audience if we were to go forward this weekend? I'm responsible for anyone who is in attendance this weekend, and I just couldn't live with myself if someone else got hurt. It's bad enough Elliott is missing; I can't imagine what that horrible freak might be doing to him as we speak!"

Fred ignores the shiver slithering down his spine and the goosebumps blanketing his arms at the thought of the Goose Lake Monster with Elliott. He glances around at his friends, noting how a whining Scooby has tucked himself against Shaggy's side and a frustrated Velma is frowning, her eyebrows dipping into a V shape, and Daphne – well, Daphne is biting her lip and staring at a patch of grass between her shoes. Fred's eyes flicker away, careful not to linger on her lips as she continues to gnaw them, a nervous tick he's noticed in snatches during a mystery, and he sighs. This mystery makes Fred feel stuck, trapped as though a brick wall has been steadily constructed around him, limiting him from moving or even breathing; the gang have very few leads, he and Daphne are (or until now, were) supposed to perform in a concert with no concrete setlist in just a few days, and they have already witnessed a kidnapping that they were helpless to prevent. It's not that the gang have ever found themselves embroiled in a mystery that was easy, but this one is swathed with so much danger and yellow caution tape that Fred can easily understand Jordie's decision to cancel the show.

As Fred considers Jordie's announcement regarding the concert, his eyes fall upon Jordie and Erica, and Fred feels a jolt ripple through his body. If Mystery Incorporated look despondent and stuffed with salty, bitter melancholy, Erica and Jordie look as though they've just lost a family member; Erica appears as though she's swallowed the dark Michigan evening sky, stars and all, with her usually colorful sapphire hair swept back into a messy, sloppy ponytail, and her dark brown eyes glittering like stars as tears silently trail down her face. Jordie slouches forward, as though there is an invisible weight that literally presses into him, and he is rubbing his forehead as though his head is pounding with a massive migraine. Fred swallows as the guilt pricks his nerves and jabs his heart; how could he ever consider allowing Jordie and Erica to cancel the event after they've poured so much effort into this show?

"Jordie, Erica, we can't let you cancel the concert," Fred states firmly, eliciting a gasp from Daphne and Velma and a moan from Shaggy and Scooby, but he continues, "You guys have worked way too hard on this, and besides, a monster has never stopped us before! I know it seems like a lot is at stake if we proceed with this show, but the gang and I just came from a concert that was riddled with three different phantoms; if we can handle multiple phantoms in one mystery, I think we can take on just this one to help you guys!"

"Yeah!" Velma nods vehemently, echoing her support. "It's true that what happened to Elliott is awful, but that's just all the more reason to scrape ourselves off the floor and work harder to stop that monster. Besides, if we just gave up now, we would never save Elliott!"

"And we can't let the monster win that easily!" Daphne agrees, and Fred's heart skips a beat in his chest. "If we cancelled the show today, that would be letting the bad guy win out in the end, and that's not something Mystery Incorporated would ever allow!"

"Like, speak for yourself!" Shaggy gulps. "Scoob and I might just take Jordie up on his offer to quit and – OOOWWW!"

Velma grinds her shoe into Shaggy's foot and smiles innocently as Shaggy howls and hobbles around on one leg.

"Kids, that is so very sweet of you, and I'm really flattered," Jordie responds. "But I meant what I said earlier; I just can't risk having anyone else get hurt or kidnapped. It looks like this ghost is firm about us cancelling the show, so I have to give him what he wants if I don't want to see anyone else get hurt. Trust me, it kills me to have to do this, but I see no other choice."

"Dad," Erica says slowly. "I know it sounds crazy, but maybe we should let them help us out; I mean, this is Mystery Incorporated we're talking about here. They have a proven track record with this kind of stuff, so they aren't exactly amateurs. And Daphne is right; if we cancel the event, aren't we just feeding into what the monster wanted all along?"

Jordie exhales gradually, but he doesn't speak, so Erica plows forward, "And if we give the monster what he wants and we cancel the show, how would we find out who's behind this, and how would we get Elliott back? I know you're worried about someone else getting hurt, but I'm more than capable of fighting back if I had to, and I think the gang have been in their fair share of trouble."

Jordie is silent, so Velma rests her hand on Jordie's arm and reiterates, "Erica is right, Jordie; how can we just abandon this mystery now? The gang and I have just started collecting clues and leads today, and tomorrow we can double down and work to put this mystery away. We owe it to you guys, and to Elliott, too, to figure out who's behind all of this!"

Jordie's shoulders begin to relax and he stands up a little straighter, but he still looks pensive. "I just don't want to see anyone get hurt, kids," Jordie says warily. "And I'm not saying Mystery Incorporated aren't able to solve this, because I'm sure you are more than capable, but Officer Bradford and the rest of the police department haven't even cracked the case yet. The concert is in a few days, and you all just arrived this afternoon. How do I guarantee the monster doesn't attack anyone at the concert in a few days?"

"We'll have the mystery long solved by then!" Fred asserts with more confidence than he actually feels, but he flashes a smile for reassurance. "Jordie, just leave everything to us; Mystery Inc., is on the case!"

Relief washes over Jordie's face like a tidal wave, and he pulls his daughter in for a hug.

"All right, you've convinced me!" Jordie chuckles. "But please, all of you, be careful! I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to any of you," Jordie stares directly at Erica as he speaks.

Erica grins at her father and shoves him playfully. "Awww, Dad, you're such a softie!" she teases. "Don't worry, we'll support the gang as much as we can as they solve this mystery, and then we'll have the best concert ever this weekend!"

Fred feels his pulse thrum with excitement in his chest as he rubs his hands together in anticipation. "Okay, gang," he begins. "Now that we've settled everything, I think we should look for clues to see if we find any sign of where the Goose Lake Monster – "

"Like, hey everyone! What's goin' on? Where's Elliott? Is dress rehearsal over already?"

Fred tenses, as though someone has zipped up his skin from his feet all the way up to his face. _Sid_ – he had forgotten all about Sid, who is lazily sauntering towards everyone now, his long gold chain peace necklace swinging across his baggy earth toned shirt as his eyes rove from face to face, drinking in the shifting and nervous glances of his friends. He is carrying two Fiji waters in his hands, and as he approaches the group, he lowers his hands absentmindedly to his side, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

"Like, what's goin' on?" Sid asks again, only quieter this time as a jolt of anxious energy zaps the members of Mystery Incorporated. Each of them are glancing everywhere except at Sid, and it is evident no one wants to be the one to tell him the truth about Elliott.

Jordie sighs and his shoulders hunch forward again as he steps towards his friend and puts a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Sid," Jordie coughs, clearing his voice, which suddenly sounds as gravely as a truck driver's as he fights back the thick tears that threaten to choke him. "Sid, uh, Elliott's gone."

"G-gone?!" Sid sputters, his voice wobbling. "Wha- what do you mean, _gone_?! I just saw him, like, twenty minutes ago!"

"While you were gone, the Goose Lake Monster attacked Elliott when he was practicing," Sid explains carefully and cautiously, handling Sid with kid's gloves. "And he – he kidnapped Elliott, Sid. We tried to stop him – we all did. But the monster had all this smoke everywhere, and none of us could see anything, and by the time it cleared, we were too late…"

Jordie's voice trails off as Sid's mouth drops open and the Fiji waters slip from his shaky hands, bouncing against his ankles on the grass.

"Sid?" Erica asks tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"OKAY?!" Sid erupts, and Fred winces, reeling as though Sid's words have slapped him across the face. "I am okay?! Like, Erica, dude, Elliott's been kidnapped; how is any of this, like, okay?!"

"Sid, I know you're upset, but breathe for a minute," Jordie instructs gently, grabbing Sid by both of his shoulders as he looks his friend squarely in the eye. "If we lose our cool, we'll spend time panicking and reacting too emotionally, and we need to get our head in the game if we're going to get Elliott back home safely."

Sid's shoulders are quaking with repressed tears. "Like, I get that man, but I feel awful," Sid replies thickly. "This would have never happened if I had been here; maybe I could have, like, stopped the monster somehow!"

"I don't think there's anything that any of us could have done, Sid," Daphne says quietly. "The monster was smart; he released all of this smoke to confuse us, and it made it easy for him to take Elliott."

"Yeah, we like, never had a chance!" Shaggy shivers at the memory.

"But don't worry, Sid; Mystery Incorporated promised to solve the mystery before the concert, and we'll find Elliott, too!" Erica declares, looking more optimistic than anyone in the circle; her smile is bright, almost too bright, like flinging up the shades and throwing open the windows in a pitch dark living room, and Fred wishes he could absorb even a fraction of that light.

"Yeah, don't worry Sid; the show will definitely go on with the kids here to help us!" Jordie boasts.

Sid drags his eyes from the ground to stare at Daphne and Fred curiously as an emotion that looks like hurt sours his facial features; Fred is confused, unsure of what Sid could be possibly thinking, but then Sid ponders aloud, "But, like, if the show is goin' on still, does that mean the two of you are still performin' this weekend? Even with Elliott out of the equation?"

As Daphne and Fred lock eyes, the breath flees from Fred's lungs and his skin ices over. Neither he nor Daphne move as they stare at each other, the question marks prominent in both of their eyes. Sid has a point; if Elliott is no longer available to be the headlining act, what does that mean for Fred and Daphne? The gang had insisted on pushing forward with the mystery, but did that mean Fred and Daphne were still performing in the concert? And would the show even be successful if it only featured Fred and Daphne, who were only intended to fill in as an opening act? Fred feels all the questions vibrating and zipping through his nervous system, and before he can open his mouth to vocalize a single one, the sound of Velma's voice wafting towards him pierces his stream of consciousness.

"Jinkies, gang! Come and have a look at what Scooby and I just found!"

Everyone turns, moving towards Velma and Scooby, who are hovering on the staircase attached to the stage, opposite of where everyone had been watching Elliott's dress rehearsal earlier. Scooby's back is hunched in the air as he noses an object on the ground, which Velma picks up and cradles in her hands gingerly.

"Like, what's goin' on, old buddy?" Shaggy asks Scooby as everyone circles around Velma and Scooby. "What did you find?"

Velma is holding a tattered, flimsy shred of charcoal fabric in her hands. Fred leans closer, noting the words "CORDS" stitched onto the cloth.

"While you guys were talking to Sid, Scooby kept looking behind us and sniffing in this general area," Velma explains. "So, we followed his nose, and he lead us directly to this little piece of fabric."

"Hmmm…I don't think that was there earlier," Jordie deliberates, turning to Erica and Sid. "Sid, Erica, did either of you happen to notice this when dress rehearsals began today?"

Sid and Erica shake their heads, eyebrows furrowed.

"Jeepers, what does 'cords' even mean?" Daphne wonders. "It doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm not sure either, Daphne," Velma admits. "But if no one here recognizes this, I think it may be our first clue. Perhaps the monster dropped this after he kidnapped Elliott?"

"It would make perfect sense if it were the monster!" Fred snaps his fingers as the pieces of the puzzle start to slide into place in his head. "No one was standing on this side of the stage during the rehearsal, so my guess is that's how he got away with taking Elliott without running into any of us; if he had dragged Elliott to the left of the stage, he would have run into you guys, and Daphne and I were standing in front of the stage. He probably went by undetected on this stairway, so maybe he dropped this in the process of running away?"

"That is all very plausible and logical, Freddy, but why would a monster be carrying around a torn piece of fabric that says 'cords?'" Velma questions. "It just isn't making any sense."

As the gang are trading theories and ideas, Fred notices the flash of blue and red lights that blur in his peripheral vision. "Great," Erica mumbles. "Mr. Sunshine is here."

Fred watches as Officer Bradford laboriously climbs out of his police car. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits as his eyes glaze across the scene before him, and Fred sees Bradford's nostrils flare in recognition at the sight of the gang huddled around Jordie, Erica, and Sid. Bradford storms towards the gang, his arms bulging and constricting beneath his short sleeve uniform, which gives the appearance that his snake tattoo is slithering and jerking with life.

"All right, what is it this time, Jordie?" Officer Bradford asks, disdain tinging his baritone voice. Fred finds himself thinking that somehow, Bradford has aged years in just the few hours since the gang have spoken to him; his stubble casts a five o' clock shadow across his face, and the dark, heavy bags that ring beneath his eyes are prominent.

"Officer Bradford, thank you for coming so quickly," Jordie says hastily. "I don't know if my daughter filled you in on the phone, but we were holding dress rehearsals tonight when the Goose Lake Monster appeared again, only this time, he actually kidnapped someone."

"And that someone, is like, my friend and the guy I manage, Elliott Finn," Sid interjects sullenly. "Like, why couldn't it have been me, instead?"

Officer Bradford doesn't even react to this news; in fact, it's almost as though it doesn't even register with him as he gazes steadily at Fred and his friends.

"I thought I told you kids to leave Goose Lake and forget about this concert?" Officer Bradford addresses Fred as he speaks, and Fred ignores the way his stomach churns and twists, tearing apart his digestive system at the sound of Bradford's accusations. "This is exactly what I was trying to warn you about earlier; I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt, and I was right."

"Oh for crying out loud, someone's been kidnapped and all you can think about is guilt shaming our friends for staying to help with the mystery?!" Erica screeches impatiently.

"ERICA!" Jordie warns his daughter sharply, shooting her a withering glare.

"Actually, I agree with Erica here," Velma chimes in bravely. "Why are you more intent on hounding us about leaving? Shouldn't your concern be with Elliott and finding the Goose Lake Monster?"

"Yeah, and how were you so certain earlier that someone was bound to get hurt eventually?" Fred snaps accusingly. "It sure is fishy that your prediction happened to come true only a few hours after you said it."

"And it sure is odd that you happen to arrive to the scene of the crime always just a little too late," Daphne joins in, jabbing a finger in Bradford's direction as though she is scolding a child. "Isn't that just a little too coincidental that you always happen to show up _after_ the monster has left?"

"WHAT?!" Officer Bradford squawks incredulously, his eyes blazing with rage. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! Are you _seriously_ implicating that _I'm_ the Goose Lake Monster?! How would that make any sense?! For your information, I'll have you little brats know that I'm always late for the crime because that's how it goes for every cop; we're always summoned after the emergency, not right before, because that's how life works. I'm never around for any of the monster's attacks because I'm at the Goose Lake Police Department office, or out patrolling the roads. We have very few officers working in this area, and I can't clone myself and be everywhere at once!"

"That may be true, but it doesn't make sense as to why you've pushed back against this concert since day one!" Velma exclaims frostily. "If you aren't the monster, then why are you so opposed to this concert?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Officer Bradford snorts with sarcastic laughter before gesturing all around him. "Take a look around you: I've been called up here at least once a week for a Goose Lake Monster attack! Why would I endorse this show when people's lives are at stake?"

"Then like, how do you explain the fact that the cops were opposed to the first show in 1970, and now you happen to be opposed to this show, too man?" Shaggy boldly asks, his quivering voice betraying him.

"It's true that the cops were against the original show," Officer Bradford snarls. "And I don't blame them one bit; after patrolling all these years, I've found that working on the evening of a concert includes more trouble and more shenanigans because people are doing drugs and getting into fights during the concert. And, as I already mentioned, we have very few officers on our payroll because Goose Lake is so small, so now my men will be spread thin if we are going to help patrol this show. Why would I endorse something that'll only make my job ten times harder?"

"So you admit that you're against the show no matter what then, monster or no monster?" Velma accuses him hotly.

Officer Bradford's mouth gapes open and then closes again, and his cheeks puff with white hot anger. "This interview is over," he sneers. "I came to do my job, and then leave because my shift was supposed to end twenty minutes ago. Now, I need to speak to at least one witness who was present on the scene when Elliott was kidnapped so I can write yet another report on this monster."

"I'll do it," Jordie volunteers, then flashes Erica a purposeful stare that commands her not to challenge him. "Honey, why don't you and the gang wait over there while I show Officer Bradford the spot on stage where Elliott was last seen?"

"Sure thing, Dad," Erica says coolly, guiding the gang and Sid away as Jordie and Bradford discuss the kidnapping. As soon as they are out of ear-shot, Erica releases a long sigh.

"God, that guy is so goddamn annoying!" Erica rolls her eyes in Bradford's direction. "And my dad just insists that we have to be nice to him every time just because he's responded to all of our calls, but it's literally Bradford's job and he is always that mean, so it pisses me off!"

"Like, he definitely isn't the most patient guy I've ever met," Shaggy agrees as Scooby giggles.

"Yeah, and did you hear what he said when I kept pressing him about the concert?" Velma asks. "Don't you guys find it a little suspicious that he admitted he wouldn't want the show to go on, even if there wasn't a monster roaming around?"

"Yeah, he made it sound like it was more of an inconvenience to him than anything," Fred recollects. "It was like he was against it simply because he didn't feel like dealing with all the extra work that comes along with concerts."

"And he has no reason to worry about anything being out of hand," Erica adds. "My dad and I didn't sell even a fraction of what the original show attracted; we're only having about a thousand guests and there won't be nearly as much trouble as the first time around, so I don't know what's up Bradford's ass. And I'm willing to bet a lot of people won't even want to show up though now that the monster is getting bolder, so it'll be even fewer in attendance now."

"Officer Bradford definitely made himself sound suspicious," Daphne concedes. "And he sure was speechless when you confronted him about not wanting the concert to go on, Velma. I think we were right in keeping him in mind as a suspect."

"It definitely makes the most sense, dude," Sid nods. "I mean, like, who else would want to cancel our show that badly? I just want to know why he had to kidnap Elliott if it is him."

Velma slips the fabric inside the pocket of her skirt. "I'm going to keep this clue to ourselves, gang," she says, eyeing Bradford suspiciously as he searches the stage for any additional clues while Jordie talks. "Just in case Officer Bradford has any ties to this ghost, I don't want him knowing we found out about this clue."

Within fifteen minutes Officer Bradford is done with his investigation. As he lumbers back to his car, he lobs Fred and Daphne a weighty glare.

"I meant what I said earlier," he says evenly. "Leave before someone else gets hurt; if you choose to stay and perform in this concert, the two of you will be next."

His words snake down Fred's shoulder, causing him to shudder, and Daphne averts the officer's gaze.

"Okay, I think you've helped enough for today," Erica says icily. "We'll call you if we need anything else, Bradford."

Bradford folds himself into his police car and drives off without so much as a retort, and a prolonged silence balloons between everyone. The sound of a phone vibrating penetrates the silence, and Sid sighs when he checks the emails popping up on his screen.

"Like, _People Magazine_ is reaching out to confirm Elliott's interview for tomorrow," Sid announces, his voice thick with emotion. "He was supposed to talk to them about the concert this weekend, but, well…I'm gonna have no choice but to, like, tell them what happened. S'cuse me, everyone; I have some business to handle for the rest of the night."

Sid trudges towards the Goose Lake Office somberly, and Erica and Jordie turn to face Daphne and Fred.

"Well, that brings us to our next decision," Jordie looks pointedly at Daphne and Fred. "I know you kids promised that this mystery could be wrapped up in time for the concert, but for now, we have to assume the show is going on without Elliott since it's only three days away. And with Elliott missing, that means our headlining act is no longer happening as planned, and we won't be able to convince any of the bands who have dropped by now to reconsider with this latest attack. I know we're asking a lot of you kids today, but would you both mind playing solo? That is, if you're still interested in performing at all after this monster attack?"

"Oh please Fred and Daphne," Erica begs. "I just know we'll pull enough interest if you guys say yes; you guys were a huge hit on _Talent Star_!"

Fred and Daphne face each other, and he hears his heart pound in his ears and practically feels the blood juddering into his arteries. Volunteering for the opening act slot was already intense enough; would they be able to handle this extra layer of pressure? And were they even allowed to say no since they had already committed to the mystery? They couldn't easily break their promise now.

"We'll do it," Fred decides, sighing with relief when Daphne nods silently, as well. "We can't let the monster win, right?"

And that is how Fred and Daphne suddenly find themselves headlining the Goose Lake Revival Show.


	6. Chapter 6

Fred paces the length of the hotel room, bouncing between the two queen sized beds in hopes of burning the anxiety that rolls off his body in waves. His digestive system clenches and constricts as though someone is wringing and twisting it like a wet dish towel, and his heart gallops violently against his ribcage. It’s a few hours after Elliott has been kidnapped, and Fred is waiting for Daphne in his hotel room so they can plan and solidify their setlist for the concert. This particular hotel is the only option in all of Goose Lake, and like the rest of the sleepy city, it’s quaint and tiny, and just a little bit unusual; the two twin sized beds are only about five feet apart from each other, with only a chipped mahogany end table sandwiched in the middle, and the stale stench of cigarettes seeps out of the doughy colored, brown stained walls, a result of the myriad of guests who chose to smoke in the room over the years. The television, which rests on a white entertainment center that flakes and peels with layers of old, crusty paint, is all of eighteen inches, and when Fred flipped it on earlier the screen refused to shut off until he finally yanked the power cord that snaked into the outlet.

But what bothers Fred more than the stubborn television that won’t be silenced by a remote control or the tiny, cramped beds that are too small to accommodate even a preteen is the painting mounted on the wall above his bed. The painting depicts a young woman, presumably in her mid-20’s, posing for a portrait. She takes up the entire frame, with only a soft, grey-blue backdrop behind her, and she is posing so that she is angled towards the person capturing her portrait, which gives the illusion that she is looking directly at the person studying the painting, as well. The woman is wearing a long-sleeved, pale seafoam colored dress that features a plunging neckline; the sleeves hang off her shoulders loosely, exposing her creamy white skin, and her strawberry blonde hair hangs in ringlets as it sweeps across her partially exposed shoulders. But what captures Fred’s attention every few seconds is the woman’s intense face; her eyes are wide, and her dark brown pupils appear to be eagerly drinking in whoever is pinned beneath her gaze. Fred squirms unsteadily, aware of his rigid, tight shoulders and the claw raking through his stomach. He can’t quite shake the notion that this woman is studying him, her stare penetrating his every thought and movement, dissecting his every breath, and no matter how much he tries to ignore the painting, the paranoia refuses to release him from its chokehold.

“What are you looking at?” Fred grunts, glaring at the painting suspiciously. He knows that it’s silly and the painting won’t answer him, but he can’t help it; he feels like a bug wriggling beneath someone’s shoe whenever he looks into the woman’s stoic eyes.

Three rapid knocks at the door puncture Fred’s thoughts, and he feels his stomach coil and rumble as though hundreds of marbles are sliding around inside his chest. He coughs and chokes out permission for the person to enter, but he deflates when Shaggy and Scooby burst through the door.

“Like, hey Fredster! Were you talkin’ to someone in here? Scoob and I, like, thought we heard voices!” Shaggy beams at Fred good-naturedly as he lumbers lazily towards the end-table perched between the two beds, stopping to slide the top drawer open to retrieve his black wallet.

“Shag, Scoob! What are you two doing here?” Fred snaps. “I thought you guys were going to dinner with Velma while Daphne and I work on our setlist!”

“Like, we were on our way to dinner, but then I realized I didn’t have my wallet on me!” Shaggy pats his pocket gingerly, gesturing towards his neglected wallet. “So I had to come back and grab it; we couldn’t, like, make Velma pay for everything!”

“Rea-reah!” Scooby agrees, nodding eagerly. “Ree rorder too ruch food ror that!”

Shaggy squints, noting the way Fred is squeezing his hands together and pacing around mindlessly.

“Hey, Fredster, what’s goin’ on?” Shaggy asks. “Is everything, like, okay?”

Fred sighs as the air gushes out of his lungs, and he shrugs.

“I guess it’s all still driving me crazy,” Fred admits sheepishly. “Did she kiss me because she really likes me?! Or was it all part of the show?”

Fred is about to continue, but Shaggy pierces Fred’s stream of consciousness before it can unfurl even further.

“LIKE, FREDSTER! We like, know how this spiel goes by now; and does she know that _YOU_ really like _HER_?!” Shaggy trills; he is obviously annoyed, which is apparent from his shrill and airy voice, as though he’s just inhaled a balloon filled with helium. “Like, don’t you think you should be sayin’ all of this to like, someone else?”

“Someone rike Raphne?!” Scooby bobs his head enthusiastically, mirroring Shaggy’s outrage.

“But you guys still don’t understand!” Fred sighs, exasperated. “It really isn’t that simple!”

“Oh yeah, how is that, like, not as simple as we think, Fred?” Shaggy guffaws. “Where is the problem here? Try me.”

Fred rubs his hands on the back of his neck as he resumes pacing the front of the hotel room, and the memory of standing beside Daphne as Elliott performs on stage floats across his mind, and instantly, he remembers everything, everything; he remembers the Michigan night air whispering into his ear, eliciting a shiver down his spine; he remembers Daphne’s soft, rosy cheeks and the way her eyes danced as she watched Elliott on stage; he remembers the way it felt as though the lyrics wafted across his skin and clung to him like a tattoo singed on his arm, filtering into his veins and clouding his brain. Fred wouldn’t easily admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he knew when he listened to “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” and scraps of Elliott’s original song that he would never be able to revert back to being “just friends” with Daphne, so to answer Shaggy’s question, what exactly was the problem?

“The problem is that even though I might realize how I feel about her by now, I still have no idea how she truly feels about me,” Fred laments with a slow exhale. “And I know what you guys are thinking, and yes, I really won’t ever know until I ask her. But I meant what I said earlier; I just can’t risk being wrong and jeopardizing our friendship, or the entire structure of Mystery Incorporated, for that matter. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I think it’s best we all just move forward and act like it never happened.”

“Like, I don’t know about this, buddy,” Shaggy shakes his head solemnly. “I’m not as smart as Velma, but like, somethin’ just tells me that won’t end well for either of you if you choose to act like nothin’s going on.”

“Honestly Shaggy, what’s the worst that can happen?” Fred asserts. “I mean, it’s pretty much just like maintaining the current status quo at this point, so I’ll just go back to how things were before _Talent Star_ and act like I did before everything happened.” _Before she kissed me and made the room spin and my knees buckle and my heart beat like a hummingbird, and_ –

“Like, I don’t know, Fredster,” Shaggy gulps. “Call it a gut feeling, or like, as Daphne says, her woman’s intuition, only it’s like, Shaggy intuition. But somethin’ is tellin’ me it’s gonna blow up in your face one way or another.”

Shaggy’s words breeze over Fred’s skin, resulting in a cluster of goosebumps to prickle his arms; it’s not typical for Shaggy to be so prophetic and insistent, so his words are like hooks tugging on Fred’s heart, and for a minute he considers Shaggy’s warning, which feels laced with so much premonition. “But this is Shaggy,” Fred reminds himself. “The same Shaggy who thinks every ghost and every goblin we stumble across is real; no offense to him, but I oughta take his words with a grain of salt. I mean really, how can things can any worse if they simply stay the same as it was before we went to Chicago?”

There’s a quiet, hesitant knock at the door, and all three of them freeze when Daphne’s voice wafts towards them, softly calling, “Fred? Is it okay if I come in? I heard voices in the hallway, and I didn’t realize that Shaggy and Scooby were here, too.”

Fred’s body instantly feels cold, as though he has been submerged in ice chips or a glacier has glazed over his limbs, and he is certain the entire room can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He turns to Daphne, who is standing in the threshold of the door, timid as a deer. Fred gulps and tries to taper the blush filtering his cheeks when he sees her in a baggy, oversized magenta sweater dress and ivory lace tights; somehow, she’s even prettier than she was earlier that day.

As Fred stumbles over his own tongue and tries to summon an intellectual thought, Shaggy sidles past Daphne, with Scooby a few paces behind him, and waves. “Sorry, Daph! We didn’t mean to intrude; Scoob and I were like, just leavin’!” Shaggy flashes Fred a smile, and as Daphne enters the room, he mouths behind her back, “Seriously, just talk to her already!”

Fred’s face sours as though he has tasted a lemon, and he levels Shaggy and Scooby a fiery glare as they dart out of the room. He must have been glaring for a few beats longer than he realized because Daphne staggers backwards, her face flushed, and asks, “Is everything all right, Freddy? You look upset.”

“What?!” Fred jumps, startled, before he regains his composure and realizes he’s being rude. “Er, no, I’m sorry, I guess I’m just out of sorts right now between Elliott’s kidnapping and the concert coming up in a few days.”

Daphne nods empathetically, her eyes flickering to a space behind Fred’s face. “Oh, I totally understand,” she replies as a grin stitches across her face. “Ya know, this painting can’t be helping, either; I don’t know why, but it gives me the creeps. Jeepers!”

“That’s what I was thinking, too!” Fred yelps in surprise, the relief flooding through him as Daphne validates his paranoid thoughts. “Before you got here, I could have sworn she was watching me. I know it sounds crazy, but I guess you can’t discredit anything with our line of work.”

Daphne returns this with a breezy, natural laugh before she pauses, extending something light blue towards Fred. “Oh um, that reminds me, I totally forgot to give this back to you earlier,” she says, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Uh, thanks for letting me borrow it earlier; that was really nice of you.”

Fred squints before he recognizes that she’s holding the jacket he lent her earlier, and for some reason this makes him blush; he’s about to insist that she keep it before he wonders if it contains traces of her lavender perfume (“ _what is wrong with me?!”_ Fred admonishes himself), so he accepts it hastily before he can change his mind, hanging it on the end of the bedpost.

And now that every interruption has evaporated and every digression has disintegrated, it’s just the two of them standing there in the middle of the hotel room, eyes darting around nervously as the silence balloons between them.

“So, ah, should we get started?” Fred finally stammers, spreading his arms towards the end of the bed, which is unfortunately the only area where the two can work, unless they decided to sprawl on the carpeted floor. He tells himself not to make this weird and to act normal until it’s a mantra that beats along to the rhythm of his erratic heartbeats as Daphne sits towards the end of the bed while Fred lowers himself a few feet away from her towards the middle of the bed, the antique mattress groaning and dipping beneath his weight.

“Velma lent me the laptop we use for mysteries so it would be easier to look up song lyrics and guitar tabs,” Daphne retrieves the slim black laptop from her purple purse, propping the screen open and powering it to life.

“Wow, how did you manage to fit that thing in your purse? You already have so much stuff in there; it’s any wonder how you stuffed a computer in there, too,” Fred teases, his eyebrows hitching up mischievously; he is pleasantly surprised at himself for steering this conversation away from choppy, rugged waters and towards more neutral territory. He knows that whenever there has been tension between them in the past (which is minimal), any joking or bantering will usually dissolve it immediately, and apparently this recollection hasn’t failed him now, either.

Daphne chuckles as she pulls open a couple of tabs on the internet browser. “You would be surprised what all I can fit in here,” she says slyly. “Sometimes I swear it’s a bottomless pit. Scooby asked if I had anything to eat one time, and I had to warn him not to get lost in there when he went looking for a snack.”

As Fred snickers, he feels his heart rate decelerate and his thoughts cease to tumble around in his mind like a centrifuge; between all the tension sizzling in the air between them lately and the stress of the upcoming concert, he had almost forgotten how effortless, how seamless it felt to be around Daphne, but this is quickly reminding him of why he was so attracted to her in the first place. In fact, sitting near her right now with the laptop open and his acoustic guitar leaning against the bed tugs him back to the days leading up to _Talent Star_ when they would spend hours holed up in his bedroom memorizing the music and practicing for the show, and the memories make Fred feel cozy and safe, like being wrapped in a gauzy blanket while sipping a hot chocolate on a chilly December evening.

“So, our setlist,” Daphne begins, jarring Fred from his reverie. “I assume I’ll be singing and you’ll be playing your acoustic guitar again, so whatever we choose will have to fit that format, but we made it work well last time, so I think we can do it again.”

“Right,” Fred agrees. He watches Daphne plug in a Google search for the most popular songs of the week, and a column of titles march across the page. “I liked Elliott’s take on The Smiths, before he, ah, ya know…”

His voice trails off as the implication falls and scatters onto the ground between them, clattering and rolling everywhere like a pocketful of marbles, and he and Daphne cough nervously in an attempt to forget the gruesome manner in which Elliott was kidnapped.

“Well, anyway, I was thinking maybe we could do something similar,” Fred sniffs. “I mean, not The Smiths and not that exact song, of course, but something that’s similar in sound.”

“So you mean something that isn’t as recent?” Daphne clarifies as she scans the endless rows of top 40 song titles, shaking her head in dissatisfaction. “Honestly, I think that would be a good idea. There aren’t any current top hits that are really standing out to me, and since this concert is sort of like a revival show, maybe it would be cool to stick with the theme of classics and more universally known songs.”

“Did you have anything in mind?” Fred asks.

“To be honest, not really,” Daphne admits with a sigh. “The only thing that I think is a safe bet is the song we wrote for _Talent Star_ and used for competitions week in and week out.”

Fred reminds himself to breathe at the mention of the original song he and Daphne wrote for the competition, and instead of choking or sputtering as he originally intends he nods coolly. “Yeah, and I guess that would make the most sense since the crowd will expect it from us after watching _Talent Star_ ,” Fred concedes. “So that’s one song down, but what about the other four or five choices? Erica and Jordie said they wanted a minimum of five songs, and that was before we moved into the headlining slot, so maybe we should plan for six or seven since we have more time to fill now, just to be on the safe side.”

“But where are we going to find the inspiration for a setlist?” Daphne exhales.

Fred’s eyes flash as an idea pulses through his brain. “The same place where all setlists are born and created,” he sing-songs giddily. Daphne raises an eyebrow with curiosity as he fishes his cell phone out of his back pocket and waves it in the air with a dramatic flourish. “Spotify, of course! There’s nothing better than surfing through playlists that you have personally handcrafted!”

Daphne’s laughter twinkles throughout the room, and Fred finds himself fleetingly wish that he could make her laugh and listen to the melodious sound of her sing-song giggling every single day until he dies. 

“Well, that’s one way to get ideas!” Daphne smiles as she pulls her phone out of her purse, which is covered in a purple protective shell to prevent cracks, and opens Spotify. “Jeepers, I can’t remember the last time I’ve opened this app!”

“Yeah, I think it’s been a few months for me, too,” Fred considers this as he tries to remember if he and the gang had ever used his phone for playing music during a road trip, but there’s typically too much chatter amongst the friends, so the radio is almost always silent. “Anyway, the reason I figured this would be helpful is because sometimes it’s nice to see songs sorted and organized in a list; that might put us in a frame of mind of what we want to perform this weekend.”

Fred hits the shuffle button on the playlist labelled “Alternative,” and the sound of a watery guitar riff introduces Nirvana’s “Come As You Are.”

“Hey, there’s an acoustic version of that song!” Daphne beams. She leans towards Fred to read the song title on his phone so she can confirm this, and all of a sudden she’s so close; her hair tickles his nose and he catches a faint whiff of her apricot scented shampoo, and Fred chokes as his breath traps in his throat.

And Fred spots the exact second that Daphne realizes what she’s done too when she flinches and freezes, jerking back to her spot on the bed a few feet away.

“Ah, yep, uh, I thought that was the one,” The pinkish blush blooming on Daphne’s cheek is undeniable, but Fred is still reeling from just that one innocent occurrence, so he doesn’t even register it. Her fingers hurriedly scroll through her phone as she brings up the MTV Unplugged concert Nirvana had recorded right before Kurt Cobain’s death in 1994, and she taps “Come As You Are.” The sound of the audience clapping as the acoustic guitar opens the song steadily melts any trace of tension that hovers over them like a cloud.

Fred snorts; he knows Daphne well, but yet he is pleasantly surprised and impressed to discover she has any prior framework of Nirvana or grunge music in general.

“I like 90’s music, but to be honest, Nirvana always felt really depressing to me,” Fred confesses. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I appreciate them and I understand why they’re kind of equivalent to their generation’s version of The Beatles, but this song especially bummed me out. I mean, the lyrics say, ‘I swear that I don’t have a gun,’ for crying out loud!”

Daphne has her eyes closed as the lyrics unfurl around them, curling at their feet like potato skin peels. As Cobain croons the chorus, she says, “I always had a more optimistic take on this song though; I mean, listen to what he’s saying.”

Fred pauses as she raises the volume on her phone, but he’s always found Cobain a little difficult to understand, so he hitches an eyebrow at Daphne.

“He’s saying, ‘Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach, / As I want you to be, / As a trend, as a friend,’” Daphne recites, and it’s then that Fred realizes she’s clearly dwelled and reflected on this often, as the lyrics bubble to her mind naturally. “And then he follows up that with the chorus, which says, ‘And I swear that I don’t have a gun.’”

“Right,” Fred affirms, attempting to keep up with where she could possibly be leading him with this thought. “And…?”

“So I always felt like it meant that he was talking to someone and reassuring them that no matter what that person’s been through in life or no matter what they look like, he isn’t going to judge them or look down on them,” Daphne explains. “That’s why he says, ‘Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach;’ I think he’s saying that it doesn’t matter how ‘dirty’ or ‘grimy’ someone’s past is, because he’ll accept them no matter what. And when he sings about not having a gun in the chorus, he doesn’t mean in a literal or violent way; he just means that he isn’t going to hurt or judge this person, or cause them any harm. He just wants them to come to him exactly as they are, flaws and all.”

Fred is amazed at this new layer Daphne has revealed of herself; he feels as though she has given him a gift as he sees this softer, more sensitive side. Sitting here with Daphne and listening to her analysis of a popular grunge song is a glimpse of the real her, the one that isn’t always immersed in mysteries and ghosts and Mystery Incorporated – Daphne undiluted. Fred’s heart flutters as he marvels at the way she’s taken a song that appears so rugged and jagged and revealed the syrupy saccharine simmering beneath the lyrics; it’s as though she’s swept her hand over a patch of dirt to expose a constellation of sparkling gems and diamonds underneath. He’s never heard anyone think as critically about music as Daphne is right now, and it makes his heart swell.

“We should add that one to our playlist,” Fred decides hastily, which draws a gasp from Daphne; he has to admit that this isn’t the type of song he originally had in mind for their setlist, but this song obviously means something Daphne, and if this song will make her shine and glimmer as brightly as she is right now, then he doesn’t want to let that go just yet. “I can learn the tabs for this one easily, and you seem to have a good grasp of the song lyrics.”

“Okay, I guess we can give it a try,” Daphne’s face splits into a smile, and Fred ducks so she doesn’t see the blush pooling into his cheeks. “So that means we have two songs down now. What else should we use?”

Fred navigates through various playlists on his phone, hitting the shuffle button every five seconds. Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” fills the room, followed by Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On A Prayer.” Both are amazing classics, but he isn’t sure if he will be able to manipulate them to fit an acoustic cover; at the very least, if he manages to figure that out, Daphne will have to raise the key to accommodate her vocal range when she sings the lyrics.

“I think we could try ‘Livin’ On A Prayer;’ all we would have to do is work with the key I would sing it in, but that’s a crowd pleaser anywhere, so maybe it would be a good idea. And I just found pulled up some tabs for that one online, so you could adapt it to fit an acoustic guitar.” Daphne says as Fred pauses, the sound of his blood rushing to his ears; how are he and Daphne always on the same exact wavelength?

“Um, yeah, sure,” Fred coughs. “So, that means we have three songs now. Let’s try to plan for three more.”

“Hmm, I’m going to try another setlist I have on my phone,” Daphne announces, tapping her screen and pulling up a new playlist. Fred squints, trying to read the title, but no matter how much he blinks, he doesn’t quite understand the label she’s given to the playlist.

“What did you call that playlist?” Fred inquires, leaning towards Daphne so he can read. “Can I see it?”

“Ah, it really is nothing,” Daphne retorts in a rush, jerking the phone out of his peripheral vision as a crimson blush spreads down her neck.

Fred knows he should consider dropping it altogether, but now his interest is piqued. “C’mon, just let me see!” he laughs, closing the gap between them as he moves to her side.

“Fred Jones, you’re going to have to tear it out of my hands!” Daphne rebukes him, but she’s giggling and grinning mischievously, so instead of backing down like he maybe should, he sees it as an invitation of sorts, and he simply replies, “All right, mission accepted!” Daphne stretches her arm above her head as she erupts into a fit of laughter, but Fred moves fast, reaching to grab the phone out of her hand as she waves it above him, tantalizing and teasing him. She bends away from Fred to put a little distance between them, and she sways and wavers as Fred jumps and tries to unsuccessfully snatch the phone.

“C’mon Daph, just let me see it!” Fred bellows with laughter, to which Daphne replies, “I told you, you’ll have to grab it from me first!”

Fred isn’t sure how they’ve transitioned from planning a setlist to playing this game with no clear rules, but he doesn’t even care. He hasn’t been this deliriously happy in over a week, and he feels drugged, high off of this moment and high off of being with Daphne. They’re both hooting and laughing like school kids, but it all ceases suddenly when Fred springs towards Daphne and accidentally knocks his elbow into her ribcage, effectively knocking her back against the bed and onto the feathery comforter, causing Fred to stumble on top of her in a tangled knot.

It takes a second for Fred to register what has happened, and when he realizes his torso is fused against Daphne’s chest and his face is inches away from her face, his heart slams in his chest and everything inside of him sizzles and pops, as though his veins have been replaced with live wires and electricity is thrumming throughout his body. He’s reminded of when they had collided into each other on accident earlier, and he had felt as though he was carrying a ball of electricity inside of him when they touched. Fred hasn’t been this close to her since the night they kissed, and he realizes that if he just moves towards her and minimizes the few inches between their lips, he’ll be kissing her again; it’s as simple as just this small distance between them now. But when he blinks and sees Daphne’s eyes as wide as saucers, all of his senses come crashing down on him at once as he registers the sound of their ragged breaths and the smell of her lavender perfume, and he swiftly rolls himself off of her body and drops onto the ground, banging onto the dirty hotel room carpet.

“Gee, uh, I’m so sorry, Daph!” Fred’s face burns as he wrenches himself off the floor and climbs back onto the bed; he shuffles hurriedly towards the opposite side of the bed, as far away from Daphne as possible, and he knows his cheeks are bursting with embarrassment, burning with the shade of every possible red one could find in the dictionary. As he crosses his legs and situates himself back on the bed, he feels the scorching gaze of the woman in the painting once more, and he can only imagine her reprimanding him for being such a dumb ass.

“Ah, it’s fine, I shouldn’t have even done that,” Daphne assures him, but there’s an edge in her voice that wasn’t there previously, and Fred isn’t sure if he can back pedal his way out of this one and return them to tamer waters, as he did earlier. “I mean, I don’t know why I even cared whether you saw it; it’s really no big deal. It’s just a stupid name, anyway.”

Daphne tosses her phone to Fred, and he tries to ignore the squeeze of his heart and the disappointment flushing through him when he realizes that she probably doesn’t even want to risk coming near him for fear of tangling together again. Even though his curiosity has completely dissolved by now, Fred gingerly picks up her phone to read the playlist label.

“I thought it was called ‘Tunnel Songs,’” Fred attempts to keep his voice steady and smooth as he speaks, hoping to iron out any sign of anxiety and embarrassment in order to put the moment in their rear view mirror as speedily as possible. “But I don’t really understand it; why did you call it that, and why didn’t you let me see the name?”

Fred’s thumb swipes through the song titles. Some artists stick out to him, such as David Bowie and Queen, but there are others he doesn’t recognize, like Metric and The Shins.

“It’s kind of juvenile, really,” Daphne shrugs; Fred can tell she is trying to minimize what the playlist means to her, but she’s tapping her foot against the bed steadily and nervously. “It’s based on this book, which was later made into a movie. Have you ever heard of _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_?”

The name tickles Fred’s brain and is faintly distinct to him, but he has never read the book nor seen the movie, so he shakes his head.

“Well, there’s a scene in the movie when the main character, Charlie, is hanging out with his friends late at night, and as they’re driving together Charlies’ friends blast this song really loud while they open the windows and scream and laugh together, and Charlie describes it as feeling so alive,” Daphne explains. “It’s where that line, ‘and in that moment, I swear we were infinite’ comes from, and I don’t know, I guess I was just drawn to the concept of a tunnel song and living in the moment, so I made my own playlist of ‘tunnel songs.’”

Fred’s eyebrows dip into a V shape. “I’m not sure I fully understand,” he confesses. “So how do you determine what makes a song ‘tunnel-worthy?’ And what’s so special about driving through a dark tunnel at night while listening to music at a loud volume? That doesn’t even sound safe or appealing to me.”

Daphne visibly deflates, and she looks crestfallen. “Yeah, I told you, pretty stupid,” she mumbles. “That’s why I didn’t want you to see it, so let’s just go back to planning our setlist now and forget I even mentioned it; come on, we only need a couple more songs, and then we’re all done.”

Fred’s heart clenches, and he instantly regrets even stating that he didn’t understand Daphne’s playlist; Daphne was so vibrant only moments before, so shiny and so vivid, and now she is flat and dark, like an evening sky without a single star. He hates that he’s the reason her light has been extinguished, and he’s trying to figure out how to ignite that brightness inside of her again when an idea starts to blossom in his mind.

“Hey, why don’t we take a break for a bit and see if there’s something to this tunnel track theory?” Fred suggests playfully.

Daphne lobs him an inquisitive look, her forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?” she asks skeptically, as though Fred is trying to trick her.

“Well, I’ve never tried driving through a dark tunnel at night while playing an amazing song on the radio,” Fred explains. “Have you?”

Daphne shakes her head – no.

“I think we need to put this theory to the test for ourselves, then,” Fred says with a smile, and then before he can even think better of it, “And besides, I don’t know about you, but I’m getting kind of hungry, and I think I owe you for knocking you down a bit ago, so I’ll pay for dinner. What do you think?”

Fred attempts to ignore his heart slamming against his ribcage; was that a bad idea to remind her about what had happened a few minutes ago? What would even possess her to go anywhere with Fred after he’s made such an ass out of himself? Maybe he should have just plowed through planning the rest of their playlist, but they were nearly done now, and he was selfishly trying to buy himself just a little more time with her, and he didn’t want their night to end on such a low note (musical pun intended) after everything they’ve been through already in the past week.

All of his insecurities grasp and strangle Fred, and he can feel the panic and fear laced in his throat as the silence stretches between them, but he lets out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding when Daphne’s face cracks into a grin and she replies, “Yeah, you’re right; at the very least, you do owe me a bite to eat. Let’s go try out the tunnel songs playlist!”

* * *

“How is your burger tasting, Daph?”

Daphne chews and swallows slowly, and her face is pensive as she ponders Fred’s question; Fred almost laughs at the seriousness with which Daphne is judging the quality of her slider, as though they are eating at a swanky, five-star restaurant instead of a Steak N’ Shake drive-thru.

“It’s not bad,” she finally answers with a smile before reaching into the paper bag on Fred’s lap, which is ringed with grease and coated in ketchup stains from a packet that had exploded open on accident. She pulls a fry from bag and plops it into her mouth unceremoniously. “But you still owe me a real dinner, Fred Jones!”

“It’s a deal!” Fred chirps, trying not to overthink the implication of Daphne’s remarks; just because she’s requesting a dinner that isn’t out of a paper bag doesn’t mean she’s asking for a date by any means. They’re just friends, _this_ surely isn’t a date, and besides, she is right; fast food hardly qualifies as a substantial meal, but all of the sit down restaurants had shuddered their doors for the night when Fred and Daphne canvased Goose Lake, so they had to settle on the late night drive-thru as a last resort.

“At least the shakes are good,” Daphne states as she slurps her Reeses Cup shake, which is a vanilla shake blended with chopped bits of Reeses Cups.

“I would hope their shakes are good; after all, that is their namesake,” Fred teases as he sips his chocolate shake.

Fred and Daphne stare straight ahead through the windshield as they enjoy the remains of their shakes as a comfortable silence ensconces them. They’re sitting in the front seat of the Mystery Machine while they eat their greasy fast food; Fred has the van parked in the Steak N’ Shake parking lot, and surprisingly, they’re the only ones out here for an evening snack. It’s late at night – almost midnight – and the evening sky is flat and starless, as though sky has collapsed in on itself and swallowed the stars whole. His stomach reminds Fred that he is hungrier than he had realized, but he’s also tingling with excitement and curiosity, so he doesn’t finish his food, discarding the paper bag in the passenger seats behind him where Shaggy and Scooby normally sit.

“You might wanna make sure you throw that out when we get back to the hotel,” Daphne smiles. “Shaggy and Scooby won’t care how old that is once they find it – they’ll eat it no matter how long it’s been sitting there!”

Fred barks out a laugh in response as he throws the car into drive and begins to guide it onto the main road. The nearest tunnel from Goose Lake is located on the freeway about ten miles from here, so it shouldn’t take them too long to find it.

“So, what song are you going to queue for this tunnel drive?” Fred asks, flashing a grin at Daphne. “It has to be a really good one so that we know if there is any weight to this experience.”

“Right!” Daphne concurs. “We can’t choose a bad song, because then it’ll be the song choice, not the experience’s fault! And I don’t really know, to be honest; which song would you pick?”

Fred navigates the Mystery Machine onto the freeway, and after he merges and blends into the flow of traffic, he mulls over Daphne’s question.

“So the point of this is to listen to a song that just screams, ‘driving music,’ right?” Fred inquires, to which Daphne bobs her head. “Okay, so I think then my choice would be Tears for Fears’ ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World.’”

“That’s a great choice!” Daphne beams as the Mystery Machine flies past an oversized truck crawling along the freeway. Fred strains his eyes; the only lights are the bobbing of the headlights from the cars around him, as the lack of stars and light from the moon fail to guide him as he drives. “That song really does feel like something you can drive around listening to at full blast; I think it’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s mine, too,” Fred replies. “And actually, it’s funny you say that it feels like driving music, because that’s exactly why the band recorded it in the first place. They wanted to make their mark on the charts here in America, and they knew that Americans like ‘driving music,’ so they kept it on the record, even though they were worried it sounded too happy and didn’t match the rest of their record.”

“Whoa, I never knew that,” Daphne bristles. “So that means it really is a perfect tunnel song.”

“I always felt like that song kind of matches our line of work, too,” Fred adds wistfully. “Since y’know, it’s more or less implying that everyone wants to be in control of everything and have all the power, and people are inherently selfish. To be honest, I never really grasped who exactly the band could be talking when they wrote that song, but sometimes when I hear it on the radio, it makes me think of every person we’ve unmasked.”

“I get that,” Daphne replies. “Because every criminal we’ve ever captured always has some greedy motive, like stealing treasure or taking money from an unsuspecting relative, or something like that. So in a sense, they’re trying to take over the world by filling people with fear, or imposing their desires on others selfishly.”

“And then there are some people who literally want to take over the world, too,” Fred interjects, reflecting on some of the more insane criminals they’ve apprehended.

As they speak, the GPS on the screen flashes, indicating that the tunnel is only a few miles up the road.

“You better pick something quick,” Fred teases. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Daphne scrunches her face, and Fred steals a quick glance at her, his heart panging in admiration over the solemn manner in which Daphne is approaching this experience.

“Okay, I think I’ve got something,” Daphne finally declares as she presses a button on her phone. Before they left, Fred had synched the phone up to the van via Bluetooth, so the music can filter through the van’s speakers. A piano glimmers throughout the van as the song begins to play, and a deep, baritone voice almost reminiscent of Officer Bradford’s sparkles over the first few notes.

Fred raises an inquisitive eyebrow at Daphne. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when she had introduced him to the concept of a tunnel song; maybe he expected something energetic and powerful from start to finish, or something with a poppy, sugary hook, perhaps, but for some reason it wasn’t this. The man singing this song sounds old and tired, as though he’s endured so much over the years, but there’s also something about his voice that makes Fred think as though the singer might be wise, as well, as though he’s also learned a lot from his life experiences.

“What is this song?” Fred asks quietly, as though speaking loudly will ruin the moment.

“This is ‘Fake Empire’ by The National,” Daphne answers just as quietly. As the tunnel draws nearer, Daphne spins the dial on the volume of the radio, and they’re plunged in the sound of the piano and the man’s voice, which reverberates so loudly that Fred can feel the rhythm strum against his chest.

Fred is about to tell Daphne that he isn’t sure why she chose this particular song when they reach the gaping mouth of the tunnel and it swallows the van whole, and they’re instantly immersed in lights that stud the tunnel walls, flashing and glowing like thousands of fire flies. But she must know what he’s thinking because she simply says, “Just wait – you’ll see why I chose this song in a second. And listen to the words if you can!”

And sure enough, as soon as she’s said that the piano laces with a drum and a burst of other instruments as the song picks up pace significantly. Fred lowers the windows as the singer croons,

“ _Turn the light out, say good night,_

_No thinking for a little while._

_Let’s not try to figure out everything at once._

_It’s hard to keep track of you falling through the sky._

_We’re half-awake in our fake empire.”_

And then the man ceases singing as the music builds and crescendos even more, louder and more vibrant as a trumpet layers over a piano and the drums, and as Daphne squeals and laughs and squeezes Fred’s hand, Fred understands it now, because driving through this tunnel with only the tunnel lights to guide them while he sits beside Daphne and feels the Michigan evening air whip through his hair is exhilarating; he feels the adrenaline slam through his body and he feels as though his heart is beating rapidly to match the pace of the music. He feels every instrument thrumming through his veins as though the music has infiltrated him, and he feels alive, as though he’s been sleeping his whole life until this moment, and he feels as vivacious as the cacophony of music building around them. He feels like an overcharged battery and he doesn’t know what to do with all this extra energy; he wants to jump and run and laugh and scream, and as the song climaxes the van hurtles out of the exit before the song twinkles with the final, fading notes as the dark evening sky engulfs the van.

Fred pulls the van onto the side of the freeway and throws it into park, and Daphne kills the radio; he thought it would be staggering to switch from all that noise to utter silence, but he’s never felt so peaceful. He turns to Daphne at the same time she turns to face him, and when he sees her flushed face and her sparkling green eyes and her silly, wide grin he finds himself admiring how she’s literally glowing again, and he wants to kiss her now more than he ever has in the past.

“That was –“ Daphne grapples with the right words to describe the experience.

“It was –“ Fred is trying to help supply the correct words, but he’s having such a difficult time as he stares at Daphne while explosions of warmth pop in his chest like fireworks.

“Beautiful,” Fred finally sighs.

But he isn’t talking about the song or the tunnel.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Besides, how much worse can it get?" Fred pondered to himself.
> 
> Spoiler alert: It can always get so, so much worse.

Fred is a colorful kaleidoscope of emotions as he lies in his hotel bed, cocooned tightly in three thin blankets. He is crackling, blue electricity from the memory of Daphne's hands in his own; he is pale pink and tingly and warm, the lyrics to "Fake Empire" packed tight beneath his skin; he is gold and radiant, glowing and buzzing like the scone lights studded along the tunnel walls.

And he is midnight sky black, numb with exhaustion, but no matter how hard he tries, his body refuses to submit to the tide of sleep that tugs at his ankles.

In the other bed just a few feet away from his own, Shaggy is similarly tucked beneath layers of bed sheets, with Scooby curled at the end of the bed, but unlike Fred, the two sleep soundly, their loud snores rivaling the screech of a bulldozer. Every time Fred closes his eyes, Scooby or Shaggy (or worse yet, both) snort or murmur loudly in their sleep, jarring Fred abruptly from his reverie. He thinks he's snatched maybe a total of twenty minutes of sleep, and even then it was fitful, and he was restless; his dreams consisted of being chased by a giant helicopter, which he realized upon waking were actually Shaggy's snores. And ever since he's been jerked awake from that dream, he just can't manage to slip back into a peaceful slumber.

Or maybe the real reason Fred can't sleep is because a shiver ghosts down his spine whenever he thinks of the woman in the damn painting hanging above his bed; she is still singeing him with her sweltering gaze, and even though Fred can't see it, he knows she's still watching him.

Or maybe it's time to stop beating around the bush and admit that the reason he can't fall asleep isn't because of his friends' snores (he's shared a myriad of hotel rooms with Shaggy and Scooby, so he knows what to expect by now, and he's even invested in ear plugs for this very purpose) nor the woman in the painting, but someone else entirely – namely, Daphne.

After their spontaneous drive, Fred had driven them back to the hotel, a comfortable silence blanketing the van; the moments following the tunnel song escapade had felt as fragile and vibrant as stained glass, so Fred feared that uttering even a single word would startle Daphne, causing her to flinch and retreat inside of herself. He was halfway back to the hotel before he realized that her hand was still intertwined with his; he hadn't initially noticed because the gesture felt like the most natural thing in the world, as organic as breathing, but the second he noticed it he froze, holding his breath as his skin iced over with goose bumps.

"Be still," he whispered to himself.

His mind flipped to a memory from his childhood, when an orange striped Tabby cat slunk lazily towards Fred while he and his mother sat on the grass cross-legged, enjoying a picnic one afternoon in the park. The cat rubbed her head against Fred's thigh and knocked her forehead into his knees repeatedly before she circled around and curled into a ball on his lap, and Fred's heart fluttered at the same moment his mother whispered vehemently, "Be still!"

_Be still._

Sitting beside Daphne silently with her hand entwined with his hand forced Fred to be still for fearing of scaring her, and it took everything in him just to remain unmoving and impassive as cars and buildings and trees flickered past them outside the window. He chanced one glance at Daphne and noted the dreamy, faraway expression in her eyes; had she been thinking about the song lyrics? The tunnel driving experience? _Him_? He would have given anything to vocalize these questions and hear her reply, but all too soon the Mystery Machine rolled to a stop in the hotel parking lot, and Fred clocked the exact second Daphne came crashing back to her senses because she visibly baulked before she disentangled her hand from Fred's. Then she turned to Fred, a soft blush pooling in her cheeks, before she leaned towards him and enveloped him a hug; he caught a faint whiff of her apricot scented shampoo as the nerves flickered beneath his skin like butterfly wings.

"Thank you," Daphne breathed as she withdrew from his embrace before she offered him a final smile and slipped out of the Mystery Machine, running back to the hotel room she shared with Velma while Fred sat in the driver's seat, drowning in his own thoughts until the lights in the hotel parking lot blinked off and immersed him in total darkness.

That was about three hours ago, and now Fred plays the past few hours on repeat, like a movie reel that's snagged, cycling the same scene over and over again. Once he was back in his hotel room alone with his thoughts, he sat on his bed and listened to "Fake Empire" once more before Shaggy and Scooby returned, and even though the song sent a jolt of electricity through his body and caused his heart to thump, it wasn't the same effect as when he had been driving alongside Daphne, barreling down the freeway; somehow, the magic of the song truly was bound up in the entire experience, as Daphne had predicted. When the two of them blasted the song and hurtled through the mouth of the tunnel, he had understood why the fictional characters in _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ felt infinite, because that was exactly how he had felt, too: infinite, like the freeway stretched before them, or like the stars stitched in the midnight sky. Consequently, Fred is still idling on the high of being with Daphne, and at this rate, he isn't going to get any sleep for the next three nights.

As Fred's thoughts continue to unfurl, the lyrics to "Fake Empire" rush through his head: " _Turn the light out, say good night, / no thinking for a little while._ " Those two lines were what attracted Fred to this song in the first place; after a long day of solving mysteries he always craved the warm sheets of his bed, and he looked forward to the inevitable sleep that would eventually wash over him like a tidal wave. And truthfully, didn't everyone relish crawling into bed to mute the all the voices in their head for just a few hours? Some days, when things were too much for Fred and he felt overwhelmed by mysteries and ghosts and clues and even his feelings for Daphne, the best part of his day was when he could swaddle himself with blankets and close his eyes for seven hours and just forget about everything while he slept, but the thoughts just won't stop swirling and tumbling in his head tonight. " _No thinking for a little while…"_ – Well, that surely isn't going to happen anytime soon.

Fred tries to tuck The National and iridescent tunnel lights and Daphne into the recesses of his mind by focusing on something neutral, such as the setlist they've created for the upcoming concert, but even this causes his mind to snag like a sweater unraveling on a nail; he realizes that one glimpse of their playlist reveals that all of the songs are romance-free. That's not to say they're a light, airy blend of vanilla tapioca pudding, because they're still quality songs, but it's interesting how there isn't a single song (aside from their original of course) that contains any sign of a pinning or unrequited love. Had both he and Daphne done this on purpose, or was it purely coincidence? If it was on purpose, then what was it that had scared Daphne into resisting songs that had any trace of romance? Was it the kiss they shared on _Talent Star_ last week, or the awkward collision they had shared during Elliott's dress rehearsal? Or was it the way Erica and every other person who owned a television exhibited the urge to squeal and swoon over all things Fraphne?

_Fraphne._

Fred's eyes flap open as he lurches forward; it feels as though he's been struck by a bolt of lightning as he recalls Erica and Maddie the librarian carrying on about the Fraphne hash tag on Twitter and Reddit and – what was the other site called again? Fred scratches his head, trying to snatch the name of the website with all the art, but it alludes him. He can't recall the last time he had been so embarrassed that he felt as though his cheeks were aflame with every possible shade of red. The worst part of it all was that Fred wasn't even aware of any of this until Erica had informed everyone, and he had no idea what exactly was even lurking on those internet forums, and –

_But I could find out what's on those forums, though._

The thought takes root in Fred's mind and blooms almost instantly as his eyes fall upon the laptop Daphne was using earlier when they were writing their setlist; she had forgotten to take it with her when they were done, so Fred kept it on the entertainment center next to the television set so he didn't forget to return it to Velma tomorrow. He bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker towards Shaggy and Scooby, who are still nestled comfortably in their bed, snoring away loudly. The hotel room is rather tiny, but to reach the laptop Fred will have to slither out of bed and move stealthily and quietly towards the computer, without waking up Shaggy or Scooby. If either of them wake and see him moving towards the laptop, or worse yet, catch him flipping through the internet, how will he explain what he's looking at in the middle of the night? He could always lie and say it's research for the mystery, but none of the gang have ever traded sleep for clue hunting (well, except for maybe Velma on occasion), and Fred typically likes his sleep, so it would be fairly suspicious of him to try that excuse now.

The other issue is that the glow of the laptop screen may very well disturb Shaggy or Scooby from where Fred is using it on his bed, so Fred briefly considers grabbing it and taking it somewhere else, but the hotel hallways are dark, and the community dining room was roped off when he returned from his drive with Daphne earlier, so there really aren't any options other than his room. He could sneak it into the bathroom and lock the door behind him, but that's risky too; Shaggy or Scooby could wake and feel the urge to use the restroom, which is common for both of them, and then Fred would have to somehow explain why he's sitting on the cold tiled floor with a computer on his lap at three in the morning. If that happens, his excuse of looking at clues for the mystery definitely won't fly; if he were simply investigating clues, then why would he need to do that in secret, completely removed from Shaggy and Scooby? The guys would probably think he has some sort of embarrassing addiction that he's trying to hide, and then Fred will have to stammer his way through an endless plethora of questions that he won't be able to answer.

Fred exhales, his breath ragged, and he flops back onto his bed. Even though there are so many loopholes and different ways this could explode in his face, the desire to look at those forums still nibbles him. But would the payoff even be worth it? What is the advantage of knowing what's on those discussion boards and those art forums? There really aren't any tangible benefits that Fred can think of aside from simply having the knowledge of what people are referencing if someone were to bring it up again, but that reason alone consumes Fred, and it's enough to make him vibrate with nervous energy and toss and turn in his bed; if the laptop had a voice, he is certain that it's taunting, "Come and see what I've got to show you, Freddy!" He knows he should ignore this impulse and try to sleep once more, especially since he and Daphne have dress rehearsals in the morning followed by a full day of fanning out across Goose Lake to interview citizens regarding the monster, but this need grips him and reverberates throughout his body like ripples on a pond; no, there is no way he is going to get any sleep until he sees what's on these websites with his own two eyes. Fred is just going to have to take a chance and hope that Shaggy and Scooby remain sleeping for the next several minutes while he pokes around online.

Fred shoves the covers back slowly, ever so slowly, training one eye towards the laptop and the other towards Shaggy and Scooby; Shaggy rests on his left side, facing Fred, his mouth gaping open as he unleashes snore after snore, and Scooby has shifted to rest on his back, with all of his paws sticking straight up in the air. It takes a full two minutes for both of Fred's feet to even touch the floor, and when they do he pauses, blinking at Shaggy and Scooby once more before he begins his slow crawl toward the laptop.

"This is it," he tells himself as he watches Scooby and Shaggy. "As soon as I stand and begin to walk over to the entertainment center, there's no turning back."

Fred counts to ten silently before he pushes his hands against the bed and rises gradually, his eyes never leaving Shaggy and Scooby, who are frozen with sleep. It takes a full minute before he is standing up straight, and he flinches when his bed groans loudly, but Shaggy and Scooby don't even budge. Fred tells himself this is his last chance to bail and save face, but he inhales and ignores his galloping heart before he carefully places his left foot in front of him. Luckily, the floor doesn't squeak, so he hastily drags his right foot forward and pauses, waiting for the cadence of Shaggy and Scooby's snores before he pulls his left foot closer to the entertainment center.

This pattern stretches on for at least ten minutes; with every sluggish step Fred flinches, expecting to see Shaggy or Scooby to jerk awake, but he only hears the explosion of snores resounding throughout the room. There is one moment when Scooby's paw twitches as he sleeps, but it's very subtle, and Fred waits an extra minute before he swings his leg in front of him. It's painstakingly slow and cumbersome, but when Fred finally has the laptop in his hands, he exhales a puff of relief. He still has to spin around and plod back to his own bed, but for some reason it feels as though a portion of the most difficult part of this risk has been taken care of now that the computer is in Fred's possession.

"Like, mom, why do you have to wake me up early on a Saturday," Shaggy moans.

Adrenaline surges through Fred's veins and his heart knocks wildly against his chest; he rotates towards Shaggy with an excuse as to why he is clutching the laptop ready to roll off his tongue, but Shaggy isn't actually awake; he is merely murmuring in his sleep, which is evident from the way his eyes are scrunched closed and the snores continue to erupt from his chest. Fred feels as though he could collapse with relief, but he grits his teeth resolutely and plows forward, trudging carefully and cautiously as he watches Shaggy and Scooby in his peripheral vision.

"I think I'm actually going to pull this off," Fred thinks giddily. "I think I'm going to make it back without them even noticing – "

And then he somehow stumbles as he's placing his right foot in front of him, and before he can even stop himself, he crashes onto the ground with a resolute _THUD,_ the laptop smacking the carpet so loudly that it might as well have been a hammer pounding against a sheet of metal. Fred squeezes his eyes shut as the sweat prickles his skin and his blood rushes to his ears, and he holds his breath as he waits for Scooby or Shaggy to inevitably startle from their dreams. But when two minutes pass and Fred hears only the drone of Shaggy and Scooby's snores, he shakes his head incredulously as he bites back a peal of laughter.

Fortunately, Fred's fall deposited him right beside his bed, so he places the laptop at the foot of the bed gingerly and scrapes himself off the ground, all while avoiding the watchful eyes of the woman in the painting, and then he slowly lowers himself onto the bed. He winces and freezes when his bed creaks in protest, but even still, Shaggy and Scooby remain motionless, gripped with sleep. Fred has to bite his tongue just to resist the urge to laugh as he ponders, "How are Shaggy and Scooby such heavy sleepers?! I guess that's what hours of living in constant anxiety and terror day in and day out will do to you."

Fred feels the knots in his shoulder loosen a bit as the tension melts from his body slowly. Grabbing the laptop was surely the hardest part, and based on how Shaggy and Scooby hardly stir, he is certain he should be able to find what he needs online for the next twenty minutes or so without being caught. But when he swings the laptop screen upward and flicks on the power button, the laptop bursts out with a shout of music at top volume, causing Fred to squeal and curse under his breath as he swivels away from Shaggy and Scooby so that the light from the laptop and the music doesn't catch their attention. Scooby's paws tremble so very subtly, and Shaggy begs his mom to allow him to continue sleeping for just another twenty minutes at the laptop's outburst, but otherwise, the guys remain blissfully unaware of Fred, and a minute later the rhythm of their boisterous snores filters throughout the room again. Fred sighs, relieved to have dodged yet another bullet while also cursing himself for being too comfortable; he'll have to be more careful while he has the laptop. He dims the light as much as he possibly can before it inhibits his ability to see, and he mutes the volume on the speaker just in case he stumbles upon a loud advertisement or accidently opens a video on YouTube; the monitor was probably at full blast because Daphne had looked up some guitar tabs for Fred when they were planning their playlist earlier, and it was a factor he hadn't even considered until it came back to slap him in the face.

The next hurdle Fred has to jump over is the password, which is required in order to even access anything on the computer. Velma had it installed after it was stolen during one of their mysteries a few months back, and even though the police returned it to the gang untouched, it had sent shock waves throughout the friends, who feared what would have happened if a villain had a record of all of their notes from present and past cases. Fred scrunches his face, as though doing so will recall the password, and luckily the memory of Shaggy and Scooby requesting a specific password bubbles to his mind. With a flick of his wrist, Fred types "ScoobySnacks123456!" in the blinking box, recalling how Velma had tactfully added the sequence of numbers and exclamation point as a safety measure: "It's possible a villain or a hacker may guess the password itself, but the odds are diminished drastically when you add in all the numbers and the exclamation point, not to mention the capital letter on 'Scooby snacks,'" Velma had explained patiently.

The window fades after Fred punches in the correct password, and it is replaced with the laptop's home screen backdrop photo, which is a photo of the entire gang taken after they solved a case in Florida. Scooby is wedged between Shaggy and Velma, who are resting their hands on his neck, and Fred stands beside Shaggy. Daphne is tucked against Fred's side and his arm is draped casually around her shoulders, as if it was the most effortless, normal gesture in the world. Fred remembers how the journalist who took the photo for the gang had handed Velma her cell phone back after snapping the photo, and the journalist had flashed Fred and Daphne a smile before warmly stating how they made such a cute couple. Even the memory of this quick remark is enough to cause Fred's heart to beat erratically; how had Daphne felt when the reporter had told them that? Fred's mind spins back to last week, when Daphne had stammered and murmured about how they weren't a cute couple when Mel Gibson incorrected guessed that the two were dating. Exasperated, Fred tries to ignore the voice in his head, screaming and reminding him that this is one of the many reasons why he has yet to mention his feelings to Daphne; if Daphne hadn't reciprocated her feelings even just a little bit, then why was she so adamant every time the topic was mentioned in Chicago?

"Get ahold of yourself," Fred chastises himself, shaking his head in an effort to clear the memory from his foggy mind. "You have a mission to complete; now, let's just take a look at these webpages before Shaggy or Scooby decide to wake up."

Fred clicks on the Google Chrome browser located on the screen and pauses when a search engine blinks onto the screen. He blinks, reflecting on what he wants to do next; somehow, he hadn't actually thought about what his next move would be after he obtained the laptop and managed to recollect the correct password. But Fred still cannot manage to remember the name of the webpage with all the art; it slips like sand through his fingers. He does, however, know that Erica mentioned fans were writing on Twitter and Reddit, so he decides to navigate to Reddit first. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he queues up the search, and in an instant he is staring at the Reddit home page.

Admittedly, Fred has limited exposure to Reddit, or any online discussion forums for that matter; in fact, he and the rest of Mystery Incorporated have very minimal interaction with any social media platform. Not long after the gang began to attract international attention for their mysteries, the five friends decided to avoid chat forums and dark corners of the internet at all costs. As the gang became more notorious and well-known, more and more people were writing about them, which was initially thrilling, but then each member of the gang would find pockets of people that bashed and slandered Mystery Incorporated, no matter what the sleuths accomplished. They quickly learned that the internet was a breeding ground for negativity and bullying, so they decided it was best to just remain ignorant towards what people were saying about them at all costs. It isn't because the gang aren't interested, because deep down, there is a small part of each member that is curious to know what people are saying, but they also know that if they attempt to read up on every article and every comment, it'll make their heads spin with anxiety.

Since Fred is aware of the basic premise of Reddit but unaware of how to locate specific forums, he fumbles around blindly for a good ten minutes before he finally discovers that the main home page must be a display for trending discussions; in order to locate a specific topic, he must type his inquiry next to the magnifying glass, which indicates a search bar. Fred holds his breath as he slowly types, "Talent Star," and he gasps with wonder and awe when an endless stream of topics floods his internet browser.

Fred feels his heart barrel into his throat when he reads the first discussion thread topic dated from a week ago, which screams in all capital letters, "FRAPHNE ROBBED DURING THE FINAL ROUND." Beside the subject line is a number, 74.5 K, sandwiched in between an arrow pointing upwards and an arrow pointing downwards. Fred scratches his head, unsure of what the hell the numbers are intended to indicate; is it the amount of people who viewed it? Or is it the amount of people who have shared it on another social media platform, or the number of people who have commented on the thread itself? But another glance informs Fred it can't be a score of the comments; otherwise, why is there a "1.2 K" listed next to a speech bubble? Surely since the number is paired with a text bubble that 1.2 K is indicative of the number of comments that have been posted thus far, so what does the 74 K total illustrate? Fred feels as though he is drowning in his own questions, and frankly, he isn't sure if he wants to know what any of it means, anyway, so he tries to just ignore the confusing numbers as he clicks on the title of the discussion thread.

It only takes a few seconds for the body of the topic to load, which is posted by a user that calls themselves "FraphneShipper4Life." Fred feels a faint blush simmering beneath his skin as his eyes sweep across the text, which reads, "Did anyone else feel like our OTP was robbed of winning the _Talent Star_ competition tonight?! Like I don't understand, their numbers were skyrocketing on the screen and then Queen Daph just made some jokes and the numbers started to plummet, idk seems pretty sus to me." Fred scrolls to read the responses, and the first reply (posted by Fraphne4ever) states, "It's because Queen Daph obviously wanted to throw the competition, I mean I love our King and Queen but that sweet girl Emma really did deserve it." Nestled beneath this response is a comment from DaphneBlakeisMyIdol declaring that they "stan Daphne," and the remark yields 70.5 points. Fred blinks, wildly confused; what does OTP even mean? Or stan and sus? He opens up a new search tab and a quick search reveals that OTP means "one true pairing," "stanning" is the act of being an obsessed fan, and "sus" simply is shortened for suspicious ("but then why not just simply write out the entire word? Don't they know how to spell it?! There is auto correct on every single phone nowadays," Fred scratches his head, confused).

The rest of the comments wash over Fred the same way river water glazes over stones; he smiles in spite of himself over the fact that Daphne's heart was not missed by the viewers at home. He had wondered if anyone would pick up on her sweet gesture, and he felt his heart swell when he realized how tons of other people admired this about Daphne, too. He clicks back to the main _Talent Star_ thread in search of another topic. "So far, this isn't too bad," Fred tells himself. "I mean, I can't quite keep up with some of the internet speech, but at least it isn't anything too embarrassing yet. And it's nice to know people were so supportive of our _Talent Star_ run, too; even though it's over, I'm glad there were people who were appreciative of all the hard work we put into those performances."

Fred notices his heart beat is less intense, and his breathing is no longer staggering in anticipation of what he'll find online; so far, a cursory scroll through the _Talent Star_ thread is fairly tame. There are people sharing YouTube clips from their favorite performances during the show's most recent season, which include not only Fred and Daphne, but Emma, Chrissy Damon, and even Girl-O-Saurus Rex, who hadn't participated in the final round of the competition. There are newspaper articles and opinion pieces ranking the various performers week in and week out, and there is even a link to a scathing commentary on Brick Pimiento's ability to host the show, which makes Fred chuckle under his breath considering how Brick was quite possibly the sketchiest phantom out of them all ("He was pretty _sus_ – I think I did that right," Fred smirks, applying his newfound knowledge of internet slang); there are an overabundance of discussion forums, and while he doesn't have the desire to read them all, they all appear to take on a similar tone in which fans simply interact and chat about the show and the performers, so Fred begins to think that maybe the "Fraphne" situation isn't nearly as extensive as Erica had portrayed. He is about to call off his personal investigation altogether when his eyes flit towards a thread dated from four days ago that proclaims: "DISCUSS YOUR REACTION TO THE FRAPHNE KISS HERE."

Fred's heart ricochets inside of his chest and his palms become slick with sweat. He glances around the room as though someone will burst out of a closet or from underneath the bed at any second, exposing him for reading this discussion forum. Shaggy and Scooby are still snoozing in their bed; somehow, Fred had drowned out their snores as he sat, engrossed by the remarks he was reading on the internet. There was no sign of Shaggy nor Scooby rousing from their slumber, so before he could change his mind Fred double clicked the thread and held his breath as the text marched across the screen.

The user who asked the internet to post their reactions to the Fraphne kiss dubbed themselves JeepersFan4Life, and they gushed about how they had been following Mystery Incorporated's mysteries for a long time now and had always "shipped" (a rapid Google search informed Fred that "shipping" was a desire fans exhibited for two or more people in fiction or reality to enter into a romantic relationship, which of course caused Fred to squirm uncomfortably and blush furiously, although he isn't sure why) Fred and Daphne, even since the gang's earliest days, so JeepersFan4Life was immensely pleased when "Fraphne" ended their final song with a kiss. "Come on guys, we all saw it coming, didn't we?" JeepersFan4Life asked. "Who else is as happy as I am about the Fraphne kiss?!"

Fred's breath hitches in his throat as he slowly scrolls down to read the comments; the only sound he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears while he reads. "Honestly, this moment lives in my head rent free 24/7," wrote FraphneAddict, and JeepersJinkiesandZoinksOhMy! responded, "Same tbh." Daphanatic1998 cried, "I watched this clip way more times than I care to admit," and LookingForCluez69 agreed, "YOOO I HAVE NEVER FELT SO SEEN, SAME THOUGH THIS IS SO VALID." FredIsAScoobySNACK declared, "Damn, Daph is so lucky, Freddy is so hot" (the user name and the statement causes Fred to choke on the breath trapped in his throat, and his heart starts thundering even harder as a crimson blush stains his cheeks). The comments trail endlessly down the screen as Fred skims, noting the thousands of people who echo JeepersFan4Life's excitement about the Fraphne kiss.

By now Fred's heart is galloping so hard, he is certain every guest in the entire hotel can hear it; he's surprised Shaggy and Scooby aren't startled out of their sleep and run from the room, attributing Fred's heart beat to the simmering growl from the belly of a monster. Apparently, Erica was right; the internet had seemingly exploded when Fred and Daphne's kiss closed out _Talent Star_ last week. But why were so many people invested in whether or not he and Daphne dated?! An investigation of the comments section revealed that many fans had been dedicated to "shipping Fraphne since day one;" DaphAndFredAreGroovy remembers watching an interview take place with the entire gang when Fred and Daphne blush when their knees accidently brush together, and FrankWelknerFan swooned over seeing video footage surface of Fred and Daphne's hands interlaced as they ran from the headless horseman ghost a few summers ago. ScarfBoyandSmokingHottie posted a list of noteworthy Fraphne moments that made them "squee and have all the warm feels," and DaphnFredAreRelationshipGoalz calls them "Mom and Dad" for some reason, which makes Fred knit his eyebrows and furrow his forehead. The fans and the stans and the shippers and the wacky usernames stretch out endlessly, and Fred finally clicks away from this discussion forum that is brimming with excitement over him and Daphne's kiss, his cheeks burning with every possible shade of red in the color palette.

By now Fred's pajamas are clinging to his damp skin, soaked from his nervous sweat, and he is fairly certain his heart is going to burst out of his chest as a result of thrumming against his ribcage so roughly. Fred's not sure what's stressing him out more – the constant internet slang that flies right over his head, or the embarrassingly passionate fan posts regarding his personal life. He had no idea his life was apparently an open book or an exposed diary entry for everyone to read and discuss and analyze; he feels as though his skin has been sliced off of his bones and now every internal organ is raw and exposed, on display for anyone to scrutinize and dissect. He is extremely grateful for the gang's pact to stay off social media; he can't imagine what Daphne would think if she were to read any of these posts. Somehow, nothing Erica squealed about had prepared Fred for the intensity of what he found online, and for the plethora of people who were still commenting and expressing their interest in the "Fraphne ship;" Erica's outbursts now seemed so tame compared to what existed on Reddit.

Fred considers shutting the laptop and forgetting everything he's seen tonight when his eyes drift towards a discussion thread stacked beneath the one JeepersFan4Life had posted on the Fraphne kiss. The subject line simply reads "Fan Art," and Fred gasps before he throws his hands over his mouth; he wishes he could swallow this sudden outburst of shock, but luckily Shaggy and Scooby haven't even flinched; Shaggy's snores still echo in the hotel room, and Scooby doesn't even twitch. Fred gulps and attempts to steady his ragged breathing, but the "Fan Art" topic won't stop glowering at him. He knows he should just log off and attempt to get some sleep (he blinks at the clock and inwardly moans when he sees that he has to be awake in two hours), and he knows there's a significant chance he'll see something that will make him blush and squirm again, but really, hasn't he already seen it all? Fred inhales slowly and counts to ten before he double clicks on the discussion thread and thinks, "Well, it can't get any worse, right?"

The user name for the fan art thread is Traphne, and Fred wonders if the username alone is a premonition that he shouldn't plow forward, but when he notices the user has pasted several links to DeviantArt, all signs of spine-tingling foreshadowing flee from his mind as he snaps his fingers in recognition. "Finally, that's the name of that art forum!" he bristles, pleased that Reddit left a virtual bread crumb trail to the website; he would have never recalled the name on his own.

Fred skims the body of the text, which simply reads, "Here are some links to some of my favorite Fraphne illustrations created by fans over the years, and I'm doing some shameless self-promo by throwing in a couple of my own, as well." He blinks, trying to decide which piece to select first, but each of the links is a series of letters and numbers, so he has no idea what he will find at the end of the URL. Fred decides it makes sense to just choose the first piece and work his way through the list, so before he can talk himself out of it, he double clicks the first link and presses the "accept" option when a menu warns him that he is navigating away from Reddit and towards a new webpage.

A new internet tab pops onto his screen, and the computer loads a completely blackened backdrop, a sharp contrast to the white backdrop on Reddit; Fred raises the brightness on the screen just a bit so he can read everything, and he shifts away from Shaggy and Scooby slightly so they don't waken to the harsh computer lights. He's too busy angling away from his friends, so he doesn't see the illustration that loads gradually onto the screen until it's fully loaded, and when he finally glances at the screen he has to slap his hands over his mouth to prevent another gasp from escaping his lips.

The same Reddit user "Traphne" has posted a vibrant, colorful illustration of Fred and Daphne sitting side-by-side on top of the Mystery Machine, parked blissfully before a citrus colored sunset as it crawls beneath a luscious green hill. Traphne has depicted Fred with his arm draped around Daphne's shoulder, and Daphne has her cheek resting against Fred's shoulder. Both Fred and Daphne have huge, silly grins plastered on their faces, and Fred clocks how their eyes look soft and watery as they stare at each other, completely neglecting the beautiful sunset before them. Fred's cheeks are scalding hot, and he knows his face is red, redder than the swirls in the sunset as he fumbles for the backspace arrow, which returns him safely to the Reddit forum with all the artwork.

"Come on Fred, what's your problem?" he scolds himself inwardly. "I mean, that wasn't even so bad; it's possible for two plutonic, close friends to watch a nice sunset together. I'm sure the artist was just trying to capture the beauty of friendship." He doesn't bother asking himself why the artist hasn't included the rest of the gang if this were the case, and he clicks the second DeviantArt link with trembling hands, telling himself he's just shaking with exhaustion and lack of sleep at this point.

The next visual is another piece by Traphne, and this time it's a portrait of Fred and Daphne kissing on stage at the conclusion of _Talent Star_. Traphne has sketched rainbow colored music notes floating around Fred and Daphne's heads, but other than that detail, the scene looks exactly as Fred remembered it from last week; Fred and Daphne's lips are pressed together, and Daphne has her right foot pointed up delicately in the air while her right hand lightly rests against Fred's chest and her left hand perches on his shoulder. A light pink blush spills onto Fred and Daphne's cheeks, and Traphne has drawn heart eyes on both of their faces, which are glowing beneath the yellow gauzy stage lights.

Fred bites his cheek as he resists the urge to gasp again when his eyes gravitate towards some text beneath the illustration, and the caption reads, "Hey folks, I wanted to take a stab at my interpretation of the kiss that was felt 'round the world! Whaddaya think?" A string of users praise Traphne for their "stunning piece" and "creative representation of our faves," but there's one comment left by a fan named ScoobyDoobyDoo that asks, "Yeah, this is beautiful and I loved it and all, but does anyone else get the sense that this is as far as Fred and Daphne will ever take things? Or worse yet, maybe it was all for show?" Fred scans for any responses to ScoobyDoobyDoo, but no one agrees or disagrees with his inquiry, and for some reason Fred has to blink back a tear stinging his eye. Is it because he fears that last week was as close to a romantic relationship the pair would ever get, as well? Or maybe it's because he's also been wrestling with the question of whether or not the kiss was all "for show" and ratings? He certainly hasn't gotten any answers or indications from Daphne, and he's starting to wonder if ScoobyDoobyDoo is right, and neither he nor these fans will ever have any closure.

Fred notices he is quaking as these questions circulate within him, and he sighs quietly, closing the DeviantArt tab. He contemplates whether or not he even wants to see the remaining two pieces linked on the Reddit thread; really, hasn't he put himself through enough torture for one night? It's bad enough he's discovered that people are gossiping about whether or not he and Daphne are dating, but now he's exposing himself to visuals and artwork. Yet for some reason this need to view as much fan art as possible is starting to chew away at him, and Fred knows he won't be able to fall asleep until he's seen more and his appetite for curiosity has been satiated. He gulps, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, and he chooses the third DeviantArt link, which loads a sketch by a user named Complikated.

Complikated's depiction of "Fraphne" contrasts against the other two visuals in that it's a black and white drawing, but like the other two, this one is just as stunning and breath-taking. Fred chokes on a gasp strangling his throat; this one makes him squirm a bit more than the other two. Complikated depicts Fred wearing a skeleton costume, leaning hastily against a wall as Daphne presses herself against him. Daphne is wearing a long, elegant dress with a slit that cuts up to her thigh and a plunging neckline, and a soft blush sweeps across her cheeks as she frames her hands on Fred's cheeks, which are scarlet; Fred is almost certain his cheeks in this illustration match his cheeks right now as he stares at this visual, which stirs a cloud of emotions in his chest. There's something about this one that makes Fred feel especially self-conscious; is it the implicit desire rolling off Daphne's body? Or the possessive manner in which she holds Fred's face and pushes him against the wall? Before Fred can catch himself, he finds himself wondering what it would feel like to have Daphne press herself seductively against him, and instantly every nerve-ending in his body feels as though it's been lit by a torch while he chokes on the breath trapped in his throat. Again, Fred wonders how it's possible that Shaggy and Scooby don't hear his heart thundering in his chest as he hastily closes the tab and swiftly moves onto the fourth picture.

The moment the fourth and final illustration loads onto the screen, Fred feels himself unravel like a spool of yarn; it feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and the sweat trickles down his back quickly, sliding like lines of ants marching in a straight formation. This final piece is created by a user named TrapOfLove69, and the artist has chosen their name aptly based upon the content of their piece. TrapOfLove69 illustrates Daphne sitting up in bed, an orange ascot tied sloppily around her wrists, as a hungry looking Fred crawls towards her with a rope in his hand. Neither Fred nor Daphne look timid nor hesitant in this fan art; in fact, both appear absolutely effervescent, with sly, coy smiles pasted on their faces. Both Fred and Daphne have creases and wrinkles etched onto their clothes, and before Fred can even think about the implications of his tousled hair and the purple shirt that pools around Daphne's shoulders, Fred's eyes flit towards the caption, which reads, "Because we all know what Fred actually means when he says he loves traps ;)"

Fred's voice is shrieking shrilly in his head, and he reminds himself to breathe as he swallows thickly and attempts to silence his bellowing heart. This is more terrifying than all the Reddit comments and usernames and illustrations of "Fraphne" kissing or watching sunsets together in a tangled knot; this is absolutely mortifying, more terrifying than every villain and every ghost and every monster he has ever unmasked with the gang. There's a million thoughts zooming through Fred's mind right now, but the one he reaches out and snatches first is the fear of what Daphne would think if she were to ever see this, and how it could potentially dissolve their friendship in an instant. But then a second thought eclipses this first, primary concern, and before Fred can stop himself, he finds himself wondering –

"Like, hey Fredster, whatcha doin' right now?"

Fred releases a high-pitched scream as he slams the laptop shut and stares into Shaggy's lazy eyes, which droop with sleep as he towers above Fred. Scooby jars from his sleep in the other bed, frantically racing in circles around the room as he yelps, "RELP, RONSTER! RHERE IS HE, RHERE IS HE?!"

"Like, it's okay Scoob, Fred didn't see the Goose Lake Monster; I think I just, like, scared him," Shaggy yawns, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Anyway, what are ya up to, old buddy? Whatcha lookin' at?"

Fred sputters, his eyes darting between the bed and Shaggy as though trying to comprehend when exactly Shaggy stirred.

"S-S-S-Shaggy, why are you up?!" Fred erupts. Confusion billows in his mind, clouding his train of thought as he scrambles to think of an excuse as to what he's doing on the laptop so late at night, but he can't help but wonder why Shaggy has chosen now of all moments to awaken from his slumber. If Shaggy and Scooby slept through Fred's fall, the laptop noise, the glow of the laptop, and Fred's random gasps, what could it have possibly been that woke him up just now?!

"I dunno, guess I just had to take a whiz," Shaggy shrugs casually. "I just kinda, like, woke up on my own, and then I noticed there was like a weird glow comin' from your bed, so I came over to like, investigate and see what you were up to."

By now Scooby has stopped zipping around the room and vibrating with panic, as he realizes there isn't any ghost that is ready to hurt him or his friends. He pads towards Fred and rests his head on the bed. "Rhat are rou rooking at?" Scooby asks innocently, his eyes blinking as he gazes at the laptop.

"I, ah, uh, well, that isn't any of your concern, Scoob!" Fred snaps, chastising himself for sounding so guilty as his heart thumps harder and a sharp, metallic taste coats the roof of his mouth; it wouldn't shock him if he leaned over and threw up at this very second. "I was just, um, couldn't sleep, and, ah, looking at nothing in particular, really…"

Shaggy's eyes widened to the size of golf balls as Fred stammers.

"Uh, Scooby, why dontcha hop back into bed," Shaggy says gently. "I think you oughta go back to sleep so like, Fredster and I can talk!"

 _Great_.

"Rokay!" Scooby nods eagerly as he leaps into bed, and he circles twice before he crumples over into a tight, furry ball; it's only a few seconds before Fred can hear the dog's soft, even breathing as he descends into sleep.

"Like, okay Fred, level with me now, it's just the two of us here," Shaggy whispers. "What exactly is it that you're, like, lookin' at so late at night?!"

"Nothing!" Fred explodes, wincing when he remembers Scooby has fallen back asleep. "Nothing," he says again, firmly but quietly. "I swear, Shaggy, I guess I just couldn't sleep so I thought it would help if I spent some time on the internet, but that didn't really work out well; in fact, I was just about to log off and try to rest for awhile. I swear, I wasn't looking at anything in particular."

"Huh…sure," Shaggy shakes his head incredulously. "C'mon Fredster, what are you, like, watchin'? I swear I won't judge."

"Nothing!" Fred insists, his voice cracking on the lie. "I swear, Shaggy, I'm not watching anything or looking at anything at all aside from random music videos on YouTube."

Shaggy narrows his eyes at Fred, and Fred can feel his friend scrutinizing the pajamas that cling to Fred's damp skin and his wide, frantic eyes, so he is shocked when Shaggy shrugs and says, "All right man, like, whatever floats your boat. I'm gonna, like, relieve myself and then go back to bed; we have to be up in an hour and a half, and I'm gonna take advantage of every second!"

Shaggy spins on his heel and starts to saunter towards the bathroom, and Fred sighs with relief as he deflates. He stands and begins to slide the laptop beneath his bed, and he's starting to feel lucky that Shaggy hasn't pressed the issue when Shaggy suddenly pivots towards Fred and adds, "Oh, and like, Fred? The next time you decide to, like, stay up late and watch, er, _adult content_ , maybe you could, like, watch it quietly in the bathroom?"

Shaggy chews his lip to bite back the smile stitching across his cheeks as Fred groans loudly and burrows his crimson face into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, thanks for reading this chapter! Some important announcements now that you've finished reading:
> 
> \- First and foremost, this chapter would never have existed if it weren't for my brilliant and talented friend, Complikated! When I wrote Chapter 1, she read it and suggested I write this chapter based on Erica's fangirling over all things "Fraphne," and so this chapter was consequently born, and I couldn't be more pleased with it. Thank you, Kate, for being so amazingly and consistently supportive, and for giving me this idea for chapter 7! I really hope you enjoy it; this one is dedicated to you, my friend!  
> \- Other shout-outs go out to Complikated (again!) and SpongeAddict, who shared some of the funny Reddit user names with me that you just read in this chapter. Therefore, I cannot take the credit for all of the user names you are about to see in this chapter, so they deserve a lot of credit. Thank you both for your friendship and your help with this chapter!
> 
> Finally, I just want to apologize to Fred Jones; I'm sorry I always put you through the ringer in all of my fics, please don't hate me.
> 
> Please review if you feel so inclined! - imacliche


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_“Local Musician Elliott Finn Reportedly Kidnapped in Latest Goose Lake Monster Attack Late Last Night: Authorities Scramble to Find Missing Musician and Plead with Concert Organizers to Cancel Show”_

_“Will Goose Lake Music Festival Revival Show Be Cancelled? One Local Citizen Thinks It Should Be After Elliott Finn is Kidnapped by Goose Lake Monster”_

_“’I Love Music, but I Love My Friend More;’ Why Music Manager Sid is Now Questioning the Safety of the Goose Lake Music Festival This Weekend”_

Erica sniffles, her dark brown eyes blinking back tears as she shows Mystery Incorporated a string of news headlines trending online. As her fingers scroll through the slew of news articles, Fred notices an obvious, bleak trend; almost every single article is passionately demanding that Erica, Jordie, and Sid cancel the Goose Lake Music Festival because of Elliott’s kidnapping.

“It’s gotten worse since Sid reported Elliott’s kidnapping to _People Magazine_ in the interview Elliott was supposed to give this morning,” Erica explains with a sigh. “The media went nuts once they heard the Goose Lake Monster went so far as kidnapping someone, and it’s even worse now because Sid let it slip to _People_ that he’s upset Elliott was taken. He and my dad have been meeting all morning in the office to discuss cancelling the concert because Sid thinks it would be reckless to move forward given how Elliott was kidnapped. The only good thing that’s come out of this entire thing is Elliott’s name is trending on Twitter, so now his album pre-sales are through the roof, and his songs have been played thousands of times on iTunes and Spotify overnight.”

It’s about five hours after Shaggy caught Fred pouring through Fraphne fan art online, and the gang are grouped at Goose Lake. As planned, they had arrived promptly at 11 AM for Fred and Daphne’s dress rehearsal, but the friends were shocked when they found a disheveled Erica crumpled on the grass, hiccupping and crying while her dad and Sid were nowhere to be found. The stage loomed behind Erica, empty and forlorn and dark as an abandoned ghost town, and Fred’s heart had barreled into his throat, fearing that the Goose Lake Monster had struck again. After Shaggy and Fred had each hooked an arm around Erica and shouldered her back to her feet, Erica solemnly showed the gang the outpouring of cries demanding for the cancellation of the Goose Lake Music Festival. The entire time Erica spoke, Fred tasted the sharp, metallic taste of copper pennies stuck at the back of his throat. Elliott was missing, this was true, but how would cancelling the concert make anything better? Fred’s heart clenched in sympathy for Erica, Jordie, and Sid, who now had to deal with not only the trauma of seeing Elliott kidnapped right before their eyes, but also the public’s scathing remarks and judgement, as well.

As Velma and Daphne attempted to comfort Erica, Fred stifled a yawn; he never did manage to sleep last night, and now his eyelids are heavy, burning from lack of sleep, and his limbs are tingling with exhaustion. Although Shaggy and Scooby were able to promptly resume their peaceful slumber after catching Fred combing through online forums, Fred had remained wide-awake, stretched on his back as he stared at the sprawling, spider web-like cracks etched in the plaster ceiling, laying that way until his alarm clock shrilled at him an hour later. During that time, Fred’s head buzzed as a tsunami of emotions clashed inside of him. He had been thrumming with energy over the events of the past twelve hours; it felt as though his evening with Daphne, along with blinking, golden tunnel lights and now Reddit user names and DeviantArt illustrations were vibrating along every nerve-ending in his skin. But after Shaggy and Scooby caught Fred pouring through online forums, it felt like a bucket of water had been tossed onto Fred’s face, sobering him immediately, and as the sun crept up in the sky and strokes of soft, gauzy light speared through the curtains of his window, one thing was prominent in Fred’s mind. Simmering beneath the layer of red-hot embarrassment was a mantra he chanted to himself until it matched the erratic beating of his heart – _Daphne cannot see those forums, Daphne cannot see those forums, Daphne cannot see those forums_. In Fred’s mind, there was simply too much at stake here. This past week, each and every one of Fred and Daphne’s interactions were equivalent to rivers with murky, shadowy bottoms; whenever the kiss was inevitably brought up or someone fangirled over all things Fraphne, Fred would try to gauge Daphne’s reaction, but he could never see his feet in the water, causing him to retreat to the shore as he brought up safer conversations and topics and took the attention off him and Daphne as an official couple. If everything was already foggy and unclear, why would he add to the confusion by peppering it with mentions of these online forums and what he found on DeviantArt? No, it was best to just move on and forget about what he found online; besides, Fred was used to burrowing his head in the sand and burying his feelings beneath the surface by now.

Fred glances at Daphne now, who is dabbing the tears trailing down Erica’s cheeks with her ascot, and his breath hitches in his throat. Last night as the minutes pooled into hours and sleep evaded Fred, he selfishly wondered if their kiss occupied as much space in Daphne’s mind as it did his own, but whenever this thought circled him he promptly shot it down, his mind flickering back to her vehement outbursts in Chicago: “ _We’re not a cute couple! I mean, er, if we were a couple…this is none of your business!_ ” Honestly, what is the point in dwelling and dreaming that they’ll ever be a couple if Daphne has already expressed her opposition towards this idea? Obviously, if Daphne had reciprocated his feelings, she would have said something at this point; she had a chance to tell him before the curtains rose whenever they sang together on _Talent Star_ , or when they passed the pen back and forth as they scratched out lyrics to their music, or even in the front seat of the Mystery Machine as Chicago’s glimmering skyline receded in their rearview mirror. Fred knew it was best if things were left unsaid at this point; he knew this, so why did his beating heart whisper in his ear like a coconspirator whenever Daphne was near, goading him and taunting him with flash backs of their kiss, of flickering tunnel lights and Michigan evening air whipping through his hair, of the waves of electricity that pulsated in his veins when she squeezed his hand?

Fred is too preoccupied with the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind, so he doesn’t immediately notice Jordie and Sid approaching the gang until they’re both standing right before him. He tries not to let his gaze linger over the two men, who both look exhausted. Jordie has dark rings steeped beneath his eyes, and Fred guesses that Jordie has slept just as little as Fred last night. Instead of his crisp, clean attire, Jordie is wearing a wrinkled Janis Joplin t-shirt and blue denim jeans, and his normally short hair is wild and unkempt; he obviously hasn’t showered in quite some time. Sid appears just as unglued as Jordie; his long, brown hair, which is typically plaited in a neat braid or ponytail, looks matted and knotted, and he is wearing the same clothes he had on last night, when Elliott was kidnapped. Both are muttering and scowling at each other as they walk towards Erica and the gang, but the frowns drop from their faces the second both see Erica’s tear-stained face and the mascara smeared down her cheeks.

“Erica, sweetie,” Jordie begins with a deep sigh. “Please don’t be upset; I’ve already talked with Sid, and I’ve made it very clear we can’t cancel the show at this point. We’ve asked Mystery Incorporated to do too much at this point to just cancel it all.”

“And that’s like, EXACTLY why I don’t want to move forward, man!” Sid’s voice falters as he screeches with vehement protest. “Jordie, Erica: I know you’re both, like, super upset about cancelling the show, but how can we move forward now that Elliott is gone?! We can’t just, like, risk seeing anyone else get kidnapped.”

“If I may interrupt,” Velma interjects politely. “Sid, this is what we do best; after all, we are Mystery Inc., and we did drive up here from Chicago to see if we could be of assistance in the first place, so we know we were potentially getting ourselves into danger. I know you’re worried about another attack from the Goose Lake Monster, but believe it or not, my friends and I have tons of experience with this.”

“Yeah!” Fred nods eagerly, hoping his voice is light and airy, convincing everyone that he’s gotten a full eight hours of sleep instead of a full eight minutes. “We’re not going to let a single monster attack deter us from solving this mystery and helping you guys with the show! Ghosts and monsters have never bothered us in the past, and it certainly isn’t going to stop us now, either.”

“Like, speak for yourselves!” Shaggy interrupts with a gulp. “I could, like, hardly get any sleep last night because I was so afraid of the Goose Lake Monster!” Fred narrows his eyes at Shaggy and shakes his head incredulously, then bites back a chuckle in spite of himself as he recalls the drone of Shaggy’s snores erupting throughout the hotel room all night.

Daphne rolls her eyes as she fishes a Scooby snack out of her purse for Shaggy and Scooby, who accept the treat eagerly, and Sid furrows his eyebrows at the gang, his gaze pausing at Fred and Daphne. “I’m, like, not a huge fan of Officer Bradford,” Sid declares. “But I do think he has a good point. You two are in, like, grave danger if you insist on performing; doesn’t that, like, worry you two at all?”

For the first time since last night Daphne looks at Fred, and his ears burn as he swallows the fist-sized lump forming in his throat. Before he can utter a sound, Daphne responds firmly, “Freddy and I worked really hard on our setlist last night, and we wouldn’t want to let all that hard work just go down the drain. And besides, I would hate to let Erica down, and I would hate to let down anyone who has a ticket to the show. What do you think, Fred?”

Somehow, Fred manages to find his voice without stammering, and without allowing himself to think about how Daphne had referenced the night before, he replies, “Daphne is right; we can’t just let this Goose Lake Monster win so easily. We promised you guys we would perform, and we promised you guys we would stop this monster, too. Just give us these next two days before the concert starts, and I can guarantee you that you won’t regret moving forward with the concert!”

“We still have plans to interview the town today and see if we can find some clues after Daphne and Fred’s dress rehearsal ends,” Velma adds. “And we have all day tomorrow to gather clues and trap the monster, as well. Our goal is still to have this wrapped up before the concert begins in two days. My hope is that we make a ton of progress today so that you three can move forward with the concert and rest assured that everyone will be safe.”

“That’s all fine and good and all, but like, how can you guarantee your friends’ safety during their performances?” Sid asks. “If we couldn’t stop the monster from, like, taking Elliott, who’s to say your friends won’t be next?”

“We’ll be watching and we’ll be waiting for the monster this time,” Velma smiles, her eyes shining mischievously. “If he attacks today, we’ll be ready, and we’ll split ourselves into two groups and stand on either side of the stage this time so we can intercept him easier. This will eliminate the exposed spot that he took advantage of last night when he took Elliot, so if he tries to walk by us again, someone will be ready to grab him this time. And I have something handy in case he decides to try his smoke trick again.”

Fred lifts an eyebrow inquisitively as Sid presses Velma for more information, but already the set is buzzing with activity as everyone scrambles to prepare for Fred and Daphne’s dress rehearsal. Shaggy and Scooby negotiate and plead with Daphne for more Scooby Snacks as she tries to reason with them to wait until lunch time; meanwhile, Velma and Sid amble over towards the stage as Sid needles Velma for more information on how to keep Daphne and Fred safe from the monster, and Jordie quickly pulls his daughter in for a hug. Fred doesn’t miss the way Jordie whispers to Erica, “Don’t worry, sweetie; we’ve got this,” and Fred feels the crevices of his heart flicker with warmth. He vows to silence the noise in his head for just the next few days to give Erica and Jordie the concert they deserve; besides, if he truly wants to move forward with Daphne and not make anything weird or awkward, he needs to start acting as normal as possible, and that includes devoting his full attention to this mystery.

But first, he has to wade through this dress rehearsal, which luckily isn’t anything he is unaccustomed to after having performed alongside Daphne in _Talent Star_ these past several weeks. Granted, the kiss does complicate things for them a bit, but Fred is hopeful that the tension has dissipated a bit now that he and Daphne have worked together on their playlist. Fred retrieves his trusty acoustic guitar from the back of the Mystery Machine and saunters towards the stage, strumming absentmindedly as he walks. He’s reminding himself of the tabs for “Come As You Are” and attempting to replicate the same magic the song evokes, and he has his head down as he moves, so he jolts in surprise when Sid says, “You’re like, opening with Nirvana, huh? That’s a pretty solid setlist you and Daphne have created.”

Fred’s heart jumps against his ribcage as Sid’s voice jars him from his concentration, and he pulls the air in and out of his nose for a few seconds to steady his breathing. “Sorry Sid,” Fred coughs. “I guess I didn’t hear you. And yeah, I think we managed to hammer out a pretty solid setlist, too, especially given how we had such short notice.”

Fred’s cheeks flame with embarrassment; he can’t recall the moment when he told Sid which songs they had selected, but the fog still billows in his head, so he probably just doesn’t remember. “Come on Fred, focus,” he admonishes himself.

Sid’s face is scrunched together, his expression indecipherable as he blinks at Fred.

“Is everything okay, Sid?” Fred prompts, concern lacing his voice. He knows Sid is still shaken up from Elliott’s kidnapping, and he’s been worried for Sid ever since last night. Sid’s entire career was intertwined around Elliott’s success, and it seemed as though he had a solid repertoire with his client, as well. If Elliott’s disappearance was challenging for Erica and Sid, then it had to be ten times more difficult for Sid.

“I guess I can’t stop thinkin’ about Elliott, man,” Sid exhales. “The guilt’s just been eatin’ me alive, ya know? I can’t stop thinkin’, like, if only I had been there last night, I coulda stopped it.”

“Sid, try not to beat yourself up like this; I don’t think anyone could have stopped it,” Fred says calmly, placing a reassuring hand on Sid’s shoulder. Fred’s heart quivers with sympathy as he stares at Sid, who is obviously still reeling and processing his friend’s absence. “Poor guy,” Fred thinks. “I can’t blame him for feeling so low right now; Elliott’s kidnapping happened only three days before the concert, and it couldn’t have been worse timing.”

Sid hunches forward as though there is a physical object pressing down on his shoulders, and then he stares at Fred so intensely that Fred squirms. “You, like, really care about her, don’t you?” Sid asks solemnly, his eyes studying Fred closely.

A sheen of sweat coats Fred’s skin as goosebumps waft over his arms. He gulps thickly, considering his options: should he lie? Deny it? Change the subject? But Sid is staring at Fred with his wide, brown eyes and a warm, open vulnerability written all over his face that reverberates throughout Fred’s core, and he decides in that moment that he can trust Sid.

“Is it that obvious?” Fred admits as a sigh filters out of his lungs; it’s as though a boulder has been rolled off of his chest, relieving the weight crushing the bones in his ribcage.

“Nah, no worries, I just, like, have an eye for these kinda things,” Sid smiles, but it’s both sad and serious at the same time. “Anyway, nothin’ to be ashamed of, that much I can say, kid. But, like, the reason I bring it up is because I just wanna make sure you’re cool with, like, goin’ through with this. I know you and your pals, like, mean well and wanna help us out, but I really would feel terrible if somethin’ happened to you or your girl. I can’t stop thinkin’ about how torn up I feel now that Elliott is gone, and like, I just wouldn’t wish this on anyone else, man. You really sure you wanna do this?”

Fred is torn between denying that Daphne is, in Sid’s words, “his girl,” and reassuring Sid that he is perfectly fine with performing, but something in Sid’s eyes make Fred pause for a moment before he responds. Any trace of the bantering and light-hearted Sid has vanished, and the playful sparkle in his eyes has been diminished. As the silence stretches between them, Fred fleetingly wonders if he’s staring at a reflection of himself; if something were to actually happen to Daphne and danger were to fall upon them during their performance, would he be as unsettled as Sid? He doesn’t even want to consider it.

Fred forces himself to smile and reply as comfortingly as possible, “Sid, I have complete faith that Mystery Inc is going to have this in the bag by the time the concert starts; and besides, as long as I have anything to say about it, I won’t let anything dangerous happen to Daphne or any of my friends. I appreciate your concern for us all, but I promise you that we’re going to take care of this by the time the concert goes on this weekend.” 

Sid looks as though he is about to say something, but then Erica’s voice cuts through the crisp morning air.

“Freddy!” Erica speaks into the microphone on stage, her gaze sweeping across the campground in search of Fred. When she spots him, she waves her arms above her head. “Fred, Daphne is ready and we’re just waiting on you! Let’s get this dress rehearsal started!”

Fred throws a thumbs-up signal at Erica as he ignores the way his chest constricts at the sight of Daphne. For some reason his eyes waver towards her pink stained lips, which are moving as she talks with Erica on stage. He can’t help himself; instantly, his mind pulls him back to when he kissed those same lips on stage in Chicago. Fred shakes his head incredulously at his own behavior; what’s the point in even dwelling on it if will never happen again? Just like ScoobyDoobyDoo wrote on DeviantArt, their relationship would never move past that one kiss that took place last week. But thinking about the kiss is like pressing down on a bruise; even though Fred knows it’s only going to hurt him, he can’t stop doing it.

Almost as if Sid can sense Fred’s inner turmoil, he chuckles as he slaps Fred lightly on the back.

“Good luck, kid,” he murmurs. “I’m rootin’ for you.”

* * *

“Freddy, did you hear anything that I just said to you?”

Fred jerks as though he’s been electrocuted. Daphne is blinking at him, her eyebrows dipped into a “V” and her forehead creased; she looks so concerned that for a moment Fred has the wild impulse to reach forward and graze his fingers over her face to smooth out the anxiety seeped there, but he stops himself.

“Uh, sorry Daph, what were you saying?” Fred stammers as the blood pools in his cheeks; he is fairly certain he nodded off for just a moment there while Daphne was talking. He’ll have to be sure he actually manages to sleep tonight so he isn’t a zombie for the concert this weekend.

Daphne sighs, clearly exasperated.

“I was asking if you think we’re ready for the concert this weekend,” Daphne repeats, a tinge of irritation coloring her voice. “We really haven’t had any time to become familiar with our setlist, let alone practice. When we were in _Talent Star_ we practiced for weeks leading up to the competition, but now we have just two days, and a monster on top of everything else!”

Fred smiles; this is one song and dance he knows how to handle. Whether it’s a mystery or a moment during which one of his friends need some reassurance, Fred is always the one his friends turn to for emotional support. It’s why he’s the unspoken leader of the gang; he is the unwavering net beneath their feet, catching any of them whenever someone tripped.

“Don’t worry, Daph, we stayed up late working on our set, and we know all the music,” Fred grins. “If we could make it through the elimination rounds of _Talent Star_ and compete head-to-head in the finals, then I think this ought to be a breeze for us!”

Daphne smiles, but it’s a thin, taut line, and she just nods; something gnaws at Fred and tells him she’s holding something back from him, but she doesn’t say anything else, so he remains standing a few feet away from her on stage as he plucks the strings on his guitar absentmindedly. He wants to say something to pop the silence ballooning between them, but Erica, Jordie, and Sid are rushing around the stage, checking the equipment and speaking to each other about the microphone level and stage lights, and it’s making Fred dizzy and reminding him of how sleepy he is today. He yawns once more and attempts to cover his face with his arm so no one notices when Daphne speaks again.

“Freddy,” Daphne clears her throat, suddenly sounding shy. “I just wanted to say thanks again for last night. That was, ah, really, uh, kind of you to take me up on that tunnel song idea. Maybe next time we try it, you can pick the song?”

It feels as though everything around them has stilled, frozen with anticipation; Fred can envision the squirrels and the birds in the woods around them leaning forward, perking their ears up eagerly to hear his response. The only sound Fred can hear is his heart beat shuddering in his ears.

“Sure, I would love to pick the next song!” Fred responds with a slight shrug, attempting to sound as calm as possible even though he feels like his grin could make his cheeks explode. He thinks he sees a hint of pink splash onto Daphne’s cheeks, but then Jordie is flashing a thumbs-up in Erica’s direction as he finishes adjusting a stage light behind Daphne, and Erica cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “All right, Fred and Daphne – you’re on!”

Fred inhales and exhales evenly for ten full seconds as his friend’s cheers pierce the afternoon sky around him. “Okay,” he tells himself. “Try not to think about how the last time you two performed together ended in a kiss; just focus on this dress rehearsal and this mystery.”

Fred glances around for reassurance; maybe it’s all the newspaper headlines or the lack of sleep, but he almost expects to see the Goose Lake Monster standing beside his friends, participating as a silent observer. As promised, Shaggy, Scooby, and Velma are situated on the staircase that cascades to the right side of the stage, while Jordie, Sid, and Erica stand guard by the staircase that flanks the left side of the stage. If the monster were to try and attack again, he’ll have to step around three different people, so his chances of getting to Fred and Daphne are slim.

Daphne steps toward the microphone in front of her, which is adjusted to accommodate her height. Fred feels the nerves tighten around his stomach like a fist. He swipes his palms against his pants, noticing how sweaty he is all of a sudden, and he feels light-headed and dizzy; briefly, he wonders if he will faint in front of everybody. But then Daphne speaks into the microphone, and her voice is so clear and so light, with absolutely no trace of worry nor concern, and Fred feels the anxiety evaporate in an instant.

“Good afternoon,” Daphne speaks slowly and clearly into the microphone, and again bursts of applause explode from their friends. “I’m Daphne Blake, and this is Fred Jones. We were finalists who won second place on _Talent Star_ this past season, and we’re so excited to perform for you all today!”

Fred gazes out before him at the vast green grass and the glimmering blue lake located further back as he tries to imagine what it will look like when a sea of people are swimming before them in just two days, but he can’t envision it without the nerves knotting in his stomach again. He focuses on Daphne standing just before him instead, and when she swivels towards him and nods, he begins to play the first few chords of “Come As You Are.”

A hush descends upon Fred and Daphne’s friends as they watch, transfixed by Daphne’s voice. Fred hasn’t heard Daphne sing since they performed on _Talent Star_ , and it makes him feel as though he’s falling out of the sky as a rush of adrenaline courses through his veins; it’s as though he is hearing her sing for the first time all over again. Her voice is smooth, like river water flowing over rocks, and it captivates Fred every time. The best part is he’s the one giving her the music, the one supplying the guitar that decorates her voice; it makes Fred feel important and needed, as though Daphne needs him just as much as he needs her for this brief time.

The song wraps up after just a few minutes, and their friends begin cheering before Fred has even finished slamming his pick over the guitar strings, which makes Fred blush and Daphne giggle sweetly.

“Oh my God, that was great!” Erica gushes from her spot on the side of the stage just before Fred has a chance to segue into the second song. “I am so geeked to be seeing Fraphne perform live and in front of me right now!”

Fred flinches, reeling as though Erica has slapped him across the face while the Fraphne nickname causes a stream of flashbacks to the online forums he read the night before. He catches the way Erica furrows her forehead together and pins him with an inquisitive expression, so he ducks his head, refusing to make eye contact with her as he ignores his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.

If Daphne had noticed any of the awkward exchange, she doesn’t show it; she’s beaming so wide and she shines so brightly, as though they had actually won the _Talent Star_ competition and had just heard the news.

“Thank you guys,” Daphne grins. “Here is our next song!”

Without pausing to think about the way Erica is still studying and analyzing Fred as though he is a bug trapped in a jar, he slides into the next song, which is the acoustic rendition of “Livin’ On A Prayer” that they had decided on last night. Admittedly, this song has Fred the most concerned out of their entire setlist; he wasn’t aware of too many acoustic renditions of this song until after he and Daphne had found a couple uploaded to YouTube. They tweaked the key to match her vocal range, and as usual, it sounds so harmonious paired with Fred’s guitar; Fred can’t help but fleetingly think of how her voice and his guitar are a perfect match, as though they’re made for each other, but something about this thought makes him blush and shift on his feet uneasily.

Fred tries instead to focus only on the sound of Daphne’s voice while he plays, but that stirs something within him, too. Whenever Daphne sings, he can hardly sit still; even if he’s on stage playing next to her he is compelled to sway and move back and forth. It’s always been this way when she sings, as though something fluorescent and radioactive lights up his veins and his thundering heart. And Fred has long suspected that it isn’t just Daphne’s voice that he loves; it’s her. There was always something wrestling and struggling inside of him whenever she sang, as though some fundamental part of him is aching to be loose, and now, in the context of last night and their kiss last week, that desire is somehow even louder, demanding to be heard and acknowledged. Fred remembers how he felt the urge to kiss her as the final notes of their song twinkled away last week, and he remembers how he answered that urge when he leaned forward and he pressed his lips against Daphne’s. He wanted to kiss her so badly then, and he wants to kiss her so badly again right now, but all he can do is rock his body slowly behind her as he strums the chords to this song.

Thankfully, the song ends with a final brush of his guitar strings, and again his friends scream and whoop enthusiastically. Fred lets out a sigh of relief; for some reason he had been most nervous about the first two songs, and now he feels like he can breathe easier. Part of the reason is because their most difficult song is behind them now, and they’ve proven they can handle it. The other reason is because the Goose Lake Monster had struck during Elliott’s second song last night, and Fred thinks that if the pattern were to continue, the monster would have reared its head by now.

“Thank you,” Daphne breathes into the microphone. “We’re going to move into our third song, which is a song by Oasis.”

Fred launches into “Don’t Look Back In Anger” as Daphne leans into the microphone and begins to sing again, and as her voice rolls and intertwines with the guitar, he tries to mute all the noise pounding in his head. He is focusing intensely on blocking out any of his thoughts or even stimuli surrounding him, so he doesn’t initially notice the haze roll around his ankles until ribbons of smoke begin to curl and wrap around his throat, causing him to cough and choke.

And then he hears Sid’s scream cut through the fog: “AHHHHH, something slimy just pushed against my back, man!” A second later Jordie and Erica’s cries spear through the fog, causing Fred to throw his guitar on the ground as he cuts his eyes to where Daphne is standing just a few feet in front of him. The smoke is starting to billow around her now, but he can clearly see her eyes, which are wide as golf balls and brimming with tears, and her mouth is gaping open in fear. He crosses the space between them in two bounds and grabs her wrist, causing her to shriek and jerk away from him. When Daphne realizes Fred is the one gripping her arm and not the Goose Lake Monster, a wave of relief washes over her face as she throws her arms around his torso and he pulls her to his side, vowing to keep her safe even as the smoke is more and more impenetrable.

And then he hears a gurgling, snarling noise that can only be attributed to a monster; it’s a noise no human could replicate from his own throat.

Fred and Daphne grip each other tighter, and she burrows her face into his neck as he cries, “Velma, get the smoke deterrent you were talking about earlier, and hurry!” He hopes his voice is carrying itself over the rolling fog, reaching Velma somewhere in the abyss.

Fred hears Velma shouting something over the noise, but he can’t hear what she’s said over the deep-throated laugh coming from just a few feet in front of where Fred and Daphne are cowering together on stage. He squints, trying to glean the Goose Lake Monster through the soupy fog. When he sees the outline of a nine-foot-tall, stocky form looming before him and Daphne he opens his mouth to scream, but it’s like he is trapped in a nightmare; his vocal chords are frozen, stiff with fear. Then he sees the Goose Lake Monster’s outline reach out and violently thrust a thin, tall object forward, and Fred’s reacting before his brain has even caught up with him. In two seconds he encircles his arms around Daphne’s torso and yanks them both swiftly to the ground, rolling them away from the stage light that Jordie had readjusted only minutes before the attack. It shatters on immediate impact, and it sounds as though thousands of crystal glass figurines have been destroyed just inches away from where they’re hiding on the ground.

Daphne burrows her face against Fred’s clavicle, gasping and shivering at the impact. “Jeepers,” she murmurs. “That was so close!”

“Stay quiet and don’t move!” Fred whispers tersely in her ear; he feels her heart pushing against his, and he can’t tell who’s is beating harder right now. “I don’t think he’ll be able to find us as easily if we’re not standing up.”

As if to respond to Fred’s statement the creature unleashes a blood-curdling scream, which elicits cries and yelps from Erica, Jordie, and Sid, who are also simultaneously calling out for Fred and Daphne. Daphne’s quivering intensifies and Fred runs his hands through her hair, whispering that it’s all going to be okay, when they hear a monotone, almost robotic voice float towards them.

“Fred and Daphne,” the voice intones. “Drop out of the Goose Lake Music Festival, or you’ll both be sorry!”

Before Fred can even react to the Goose Lake Monster’s warning, he hears Velma shout, “Okay Shaggy, turn it on NOW!” An instant later the sound of fans whirling blasts all around him, and in seconds the fog has already thinned; he can see the monster’s beady red eyes and the reptile-like, scaly body. The Goose Lake Monster is rooted in place, obviously taken aback by the precaution, and he doesn’t flinch or move. It’s only about half a minute before the fog is almost completely gone, and revealing the Goose Lake Monster just four feet in front of where Fred and Daphne huddle together in a ball on the ground. A shiver branches across Fred’s back; he can clearly see the sharp, pointy nails on the tips of the creature’s claws and the sinewy, defined muscles in its limbs as it stands on its back legs, and its iridescent green scales glimmer beneath the afternoon sun. He unleashes another scream, and it jars everyone into motion.

“Get him!” Velma barks vehemently as she jabs a finger at the creature, and the Goose Lake Monster screeches as Velma, Jordie, and Erica rush towards him from both sides of the stage. He zips straight past Fred and Daphne and leaps off the front of the stage, tearing across the grass and racing towards the lake, its tail swinging behind as it runs. Fred and Daphne are still scrambling to pull themselves off the ground when the monster dives into the lake, leaving only a splash behind in his wake as Velma, Jordie, and Erica remain standing on the grass, blinking at the water that ripples from the monster’s hasty escape.

There’s a few seconds of silence as everyone remains frozen, shocked by what’s just transpired, when Shaggy interrupts with a cough.

“Like, sorry Fred and Daphne, those fans were meant to be on a lot sooner!” Shaggy scratches his neck sheepishly as Scooby wags his tail next to him; a cursory glance shows Fred an army of sleek, wireless fans lined along the side of the stage, and it suddenly clicks as to what Velma had been referencing when she had suggested a resolution to the smoke issue, which had thankfully worked out in their favor.

“It’s okay, Shaggy,” Fred exhales a cloud of relief, surveying the scene around him when he notices Sid is lying face down on the grass to the right of the stage. “Sid, are you all right?!”

Sid groans as Erica and Jordie run back to him, delicately helping him get back on his feet and gingerly checking him for any injuries as Mystery Incorporated join them.

“Like, I’m sorry guys,” Sid sighs. “I think the monster got on stage so easily because he was able to push me down. I didn’t even, like, see it coming.”

“Don’t apologize, Sid,” Daphne responds soothingly as he wobbles back onto his feet with Jordie and Erica supporting him. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“I did not foresee the monster infiltrating any of us to trespass onto the stage,” Velma admits. “I guess we’ll have to be more careful in the future, but hey, the fans I managed to buy at the local convenient store this morning before the dress rehearsal sure did the trick!”

“Yeah, I think we startled the monster,” Fred agrees. “He seemed really shocked, like he was caught off guard when the smoke started to disappear.”

“So he must be using the fog to confuse and disorient us when he attacks,” Daphne muses. “He tried to injury Freddy and I by pushing that stage light, and I never would have seen it if it weren’t for Fred pulling us to safety! Hopefully now that we’ve thwarted the element of surprise for him, we can lessen the brutality of his attacks.”

“Daphne’s right,” Fred nods. “Those fans really were good thinking, Velma. But that was still a close call. And did you guys hear what he said to us on stage?”

“Like, I think I heard it,” Sid gulps. “He warned you guys to like, drop out of the concert.”

“Exactly!” Daphne snaps her fingers. “And who else has been warning us to stay away from the concert and is once again incidentally not here? Bradford, that’s who!”

“This is true, but we still need more clues before we can finalize our guess as to who is behind all of this,” Velma adds. “I don’t see anything that the monster could have dropped this time, but we’ll sweep through the stage and the grassy area where he was running just to check. So far all we have is the clue with ‘CORDS’ written on a piece of cloth, and I still can’t make heads or tails of it. Maybe we’ll be lucky and we’ll find something else after this most recent attack.”

“I think after we’re done searching here, we need to start interviewing the people living in Goose Lake, too,” Fred states. “Now that the stakes are getting higher, it’s important we have a comprehensive idea of who our primary suspect will be.”

“While you kids are doing that, I’ll have to clean my stage,” Jordie laments as he eyes the shards of glass strewn on the stage. “But thank goodness that didn’t hit you guys, Fred and Daphne. You could have been seriously injured.”

“It was all Fred’s quick thinking,” Daphne beams as she lays her hand on Fred’s arm, and he feels a cluster of butterfly wings flitting around inside of his chest once again.

“But wait!” Sid’s cries out before everyone can break to clean and search for clues. “Fred, Daphne: are you going to do what the Goose Lake Monster demanded and drop out of the concert? What if he, like, comes after you again?”

Automatically everyone’s eyes flicker to Fred, including Daphne, intrigued by how he will respond. Once again, Fred summons every ounce of bravery and courage as his heart swells while looking at his friends circled before him; he’s lead them through so many mysteries before, so he knows this answer without even having to pause and think about it.

“No Sid, we’re definitely not dropping out of this show!” Fred announces, and he’s met with cheers from Daphne, Velma, Erica, Sid, and Jordie, and subtle groans from Shaggy and Scooby. “Now let’s search for clues before we split up to interview the people of Goose Lake!”

But even as the words have left his mouth, Fred can’t help but wonder if he’s leading his friends into a potentially fatal situation this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I'm curious - do you have any theories or predictions as to who could be the Goose Lake Monster thus far? Leave your predictions in the reviews if you feel inclined!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: All right friends, I know this is a long-winded chapter, but I have some very important notes before we begin! First, I would like to thank my close friend Kate, who so very kindly took the time out of her busy schedule to beta read TWO different drafts of this chapter. She also give me some amazing input and suggestions to make this chapter even stronger. Thanks again for all of your help, Kate - this chapter would be a mess without you. As always, I am so grateful for your friendship and your advice, and your willingness to beta read.
> 
> The other reason I don't feel as guilty dropping a lengthier update is because the updates may be infrequent for awhile now...I have the final semester looming ahead at school, so that will keep me busy, and I also have some thing going on in my personal life that is about to keep me really busy throughout the next month and a half! (Good things, I promise! But I'll be fairly busy nonetheless, so thank you in advance for your patience!)
> 
> Anyway, please read and review if you feel inclined! I'm still open to any theories/suspects, too :) - iamacliche

**Chapter 9**

"Well, I think this might be it, Freddy. Do you wanna double check the address?"

"Yup, it matches what I have here, so it looks like this is the one. I am curious to see what Elma has to say since this monster impacted her more than it did most of the other citizens."

Fred crumples the piece of tattered college ruled notebook paper, which contains a smudged address for Elma Richards' house in Erica's loopy handwriting. It is about two hours after the monster ransacked Fred and Daphne's dress rehearsal, and Mystery Incorporated has split up to begin interviewing the locals in hopes of finding more clues. Admittedly, the situation was looking a bit bleak; after the gang combed through the stage and the grassy areas where the monster had fled towards Goose Lake, they had failed to find any clues. Fred had felt himself deflating like a balloon; even though he still didn't know what to think of the fabric that said "cords," he took comfort in the fact that at least there was a clue the last time the monster attacked.

But in spite of the set-back, he and his friends attempted to remain upbeat and optimistic. Instead of wallowing in their lack of clues, Velma announced that it was time to interview the locals to see if someone knew anything. This prompted Erica to rush into the Goose Lake office and return with a frayed piece of paper. She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail beneath a name and address scrawled on the paper: "Elma Richards, 1607 Admiral Street."

"Be sure you guys stop to speak to Elma while you're out," Erica instructs the gang. "She was hired as the make-up artist for most of our bands for the day of the festival, but those plans fell through when the monster started attacking and forced everyone to drop out of the show. We haven't heard from her since her clients all cancelled, so I'm curious to see how she feels about this mystery. You should find her easily, too; her house is on the other side of Goose Lake, so it's really close."

"We'll make sure to talk to her then, thanks," Fred smiled, but his lips flat lined when Erica cut her gaze towards him and secured him in an intense stare. Ever since the dress rehearsal, Fred has noticed Erica studying him, and it makes him feel like a caged animal in a zoo; a shiver slithers down his spine and his skin breaks out in a cluster of goosebumps whenever he catches her watching him. He isn't sure what's going through Erica's mind, but he knows she caught him reacting to the Fraphne nickname during dress rehearsals. Now he's afraid his intense reaction to the nickname has tipped Erica off somehow; whenever she speaks with Fred, he finds himself trapped in the elastic seconds that stretch between two people who are tip-toeing around a secret.

And somehow, Fred intrinsically knows that Erica is aware of what Fred found on the internet last night; Erica is so perceptive, she might as well be a detective like him and his friends. Based on the furrow etched into Erica's forehead and the way her eyes dart around nervously when she looks at him, Fred also knows that Erica has something she wants to ask Fred. He isn't quite sure what exactly it is she intends to say, but Fred has a feeling it's one mystery he would rather leave unsolved.

Luckily for Fred, Velma had signaled that it was time to leave to speak to the locals, and the moment for Erica to entreat Fred to speak with her dissipated like the waning golden light during dusk. The gang crammed into the Mystery Machine and Fred drove the fleeting two-minute hike it took to reach the sleepy city of Goose Lake. The suburbs were relatively tiny; a cul-de-sac fringed Goose Lake itself, and then several streets ran parallel to the houses in the immediate vicinity. At a glance, the neighborhood appeared to be a typical American house in a more rural area. The houses were a few feet apart at most, and all of the cozy colonials looked the exact same with their white clapboard sides and the brick exteriors on the front. The only distinction between each of the houses were the flowers that poked their yellow and pink heads out of the soil in the front yard, or the tricycle that was spilled in the driveway. Everything was calm and still; there were no obvious ripples or reverberations that indicated the town was fostering a potential suspect.

After parking the Mystery Machine in the middle of the immediate cul-de-sac set behind the lake, Velma had declared that she would split up with Shaggy and Scooby; they would take the streets that stretched further away from the lake, while Fred and Daphne hit all of the houses that looped around the cul-de-sac behind Goose Lake. Before anyone could dispute the arrangement, Velma dragged Shaggy and Scooby away by the elbows, glancing back in the blink of an eye to look at Daphne. Fred knew he was in dire need of some sleep when he saw Velma mouth "just talk to him already!" at Daphne. He shook his head blearily as he tried not to think about ensconcing his body in warm, woolly blankets and soft, feathery pillows.

That was how Fred found himself going door to door with Daphne for the last hour. So far, they had talked to about four different households, and each of their responses to Fred and Daphne's inquiries were almost exactly the same, with very little variation:

"Yes, I've heard about the Goose Lake Monster, and that's why I haven't left my house for the last several weeks or so," drawled a thin elderly man.

"We saw the monster one night when we took the kids camping a couple weeks ago, and we haven't set foot outside of this house; we made sure to add locks and security cameras since then, too," shivered a middle-aged woman as her two young boys cowered behind her shyly.

"I'm not sure why anyone would want to sabotage the concert; personally, I was looking forward to listening to it from my backyard. I didn't even buy tickets because we would have heard it from our own house," explained a man in his mid-twenties who had an affinity for chain-smoking cigarettes as he talked to Fred and Daphne on his front porch.

"Goose Lake is such a small, tight-knit community; I really can't imagine why anyone would want to make everyone feel this unsafe," lamented a young woman with piercing brown eyes.

They hadn't spoken with many people, but so far it was unanimous; none of the locals could figure out why a monster would feel the need to thwart the concert, and in fact, everyone showed signs of fear, whether it meant they were hunkering down, or they were just outwardly concerned for their families. It didn't make sense to Fred as to why anyone on this street would somehow have a connection with the Goose Lake Monster if they were all so afraid and so concerned about whether or not the concert would still take place.

The door-to-door interviews also made Fred notice a huge difference between the locals who lived here fifty years ago versus the ones who occupied Goose Lake now. Those civilians on the documentary were hostile and less than thrilled about the concert and the noise level; these civilians were disappointed the show was in jeopardy. There wasn't a single person Fred and Daphne interviewed who expressed concern about the noise level or the inconvenience of having a concert in their backyard, which was a staggering difference from the people featured on the documentary film. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the gang's initial speculation that the Goose Lake Monster was a disgruntled citizen was incorrect; unless someone was lying, everyone genuinely seemed disturbed about the Monster's attempts at dissolving the concert.

However, none of the citizens had a direct connection to the concert aside from an expressed interest in wanting to attend as a fan, which is why Fred is especially intrigued to speak with Elma, who was scheduled to play an active role in the show. As Fred and Daphne walk up the cobblestone driveway that leads to Elma's house, he tries to visualize Elma. Will she be bitter because the monster has forced her clients to cancel? He imagines that he wouldn't be too thrilled if a supposed monster damaged his business, so he fully expects to be met with an angry, disillusioned woman.

As Fred and Daphne stand on Elma's front porch, Fred can't help but notice that Elma's house is a stark contrast compared to the perfectly manicured, neat and tidy houses they had visited thus far. Whereas each house has luscious green grass and a garden that has obviously been tended with care, Elma's house lacks any plants, and her front lawn is fried and yellowed as a result of burning under the Michigan summer sun with no sprinkler to nourish it. Her mailbox, which is nailed next to her door, is rusty and needs immediate fixing, as it dangles precariously, unhinged. The purple front door feels too bright and eccentric for this traditional neighborhood, and it is adorned with a black and orange Halloween wreath that must have remained there since last year. Fred hikes an eyebrow and lobs Daphne a look that says, "I wonder what we're getting ourselves into."

Daphne shrugs and smiles sweetly in response, and before Fred can register the flutter of his heart, she reaches forward and knocks loudly on the door. Immediately there is shuffling on the other side of the door, and a woman's brassy trumpet voice muffles, "Be there in just a minute!" Fred hears someone padding towards the door, humming loudly as she approaches, and in just a few seconds the door swings open to reveal a short woman who appears to be in her early 20's, around Fred and Daphne's age. Fred isn't an expert on hair, but he is fairly certain the wavy platinum blonde hair that spills over her shoulders is a wig, and she is presumably wearing contacts, too; her intense blue eyes sparkle more than the ocean when the sunlight grazes the water. But what draws Fred's attention to Elma isn't her hair nor even her eye color, but the way her make-up has been expertly applied; he can see tons of purples and pinks packed into the crease of her eyes, and a vivid cherry red metallic shade sweeps across her lids. Her lips are painted a shade of purple that reminds Fred of grape soda, and her cheeks are highlighted with a swipe of powdery blue sparkles that glimmer when the late afternoon sun kisses her face. Even if Fred didn't know that Elma was a make-up artist before they knocked on her door, he would have correctly guessed her career choice immediately upon seeing her.

"Hi, is your name Elma?" Daphne asks politely.

"Yes, that would be me," Elma's voice is cheerful and upbeat, matching the vibrant rainbow striped cardigan that hangs loose on her thin frame. "How can I help you both?"

"We're here to ask if you know anything about the Goose Lake Monster," Fred explains. "Erica actually sent us to speak with you; she and her dad are running the concert that's coming up this weekend, and she told us you were scheduled to be the make-up artist for the bands."

"Oh yes, of course, I love Erica, please, come inside!" Elma squeals and jumps up and down, giddy as a child, and she steps aside to let Fred and Daphne cross the threshold of her home. As soon as Fred steps into Elma's house, his nose is tickled with a wisp of incense that curls around his nostrils, and he stops in his tracks when he clocks the rows and rows of female and male mannequin busts that stand at attention on the shelves and various sized tables strewn around the living room. Each mannequin head is topped with a wig that varies in color and style, making Elma's living room look like a kaleidoscope or a rainbow: Fred has never seen so much color splashed into one room.

"Oh, don't mind my living room," Elma apologizes, noting Fred and Daphne's wide eyes and curious glances. "I'm a make-up artist, and I even worked out in Hollywood outfitting celebrities for television shows a few years ago. I had to move back to Michigan last year to take care of my father, who passed away just a few months ago. I didn't know how long I would be here, so I brought everything with me from California. I'm glad I had the foresight to do that because I was managing to do well booking private sessions and concerts, but, well, the Goose Lake Monster had other plans, I guess."

"This is so cool," Daphne's voice is dripping with awe and wonder as her gaze sweeps across the dozens and dozens of forward-fixed, unmoving eyes and their multicolored heads. Fred is a blend of impressed and, admittedly, spooked; something about the mannequins and the heads makes him think of all the criminals they've unmasked and all the gaudy costumes he and his friends have encountered over the years.

"I know it probably seems like it's over the top, but since I hope to return to the coast one day I didn't want to waste the money on an office building, so everything is kind of jumbled in my house until I make my way back to Hollywood," Elma's smile stretches as she speaks, yawning across her face as she watches Fred and Daphne. Her eyes shine with a question as she watches the two of them, and from the way her eyebrows are knit together, Fred can tell she is trying to place where she has seen them before; he has been in Goose Lake long enough to know that their _Talent Star_ fame has reverberated throughout the entire country.

Before Fred can explain what they're doing at Elma's, she snaps her fingers together and exclaims, "Hey, I've been trying to figure out why you two look so familiar, and I think I've got it! I saw you two on TV – aren't you Fred and Daphne?"

"Yeah, that's us," Daphne admits sheepishly, a shy grin flickering across her face. "I'm guessing you saw us from _Talent Star_?"

" _Talent Star?_ " Elma echoes, her voice rising an octave as she scrunches her face inquisitively. "Nah, I've heard of that show, but I don't really follow it at all; I'm kind of sick of those _American Idol_ and _The Voice_ carbon copies, no offense of course. But I did just see you guys on the local news like twenty minutes before you got here. Here, check it out."

Elma indicates towards a small television set tucked amongst a sea of mannequin busts capped with shades of icy blues. She flicks the screen on with the remote and an anchorman is standing in front of the empty stage nestled beside Goose Lake. His bright, chipper demeanor doesn't match the solemn headline scrolling beneath him as he speaks, which reads: "Goose Lake Monster Strikes Again, Attempts to Injure Concert's Remaining Performers."

Fred swallows the fist-sized lump forming in his throat as Elma turns up the volume so they can hear the anchorman, who says in a nasally voice, "This morning at approximately 11:45 AM, the sole remaining act for the upcoming Goose Lake Concert was attacked by the Monster. Fred Jones and Daphne Blake, the performers who moved into Elliott Finn's headlining slot after he was unfortunately kidnapped by the monster, were ambushed during dress rehearsals, but are reportedly unharmed in this recent attack."

The newsreel cut to a grainy clip of Fred and Daphne performing on stage at _Talent Star_ the other week, and Fred's palms are immediately coated in sweat when he hears him and Daphne's voice simultaneously singing "I love you" on stage; thankfully, the clip ended before it could broadcast their kiss, much to Fred's relief. The anchorman's voice is layered over the footage, and as it plays on a loop he states, "Blake and Jones were runners-up in this most recent season of _Talent Star_ , so it was only natural that they were nabbed for the upcoming festival. As previously reported, all twelve of the other bands were forced to drop from the festival because of the monster. As of press time, Blake and Jones are still committed to performing, even in spite of the monster. Consequently, there has been a report in a surge of views to _Talent Star_ 's content on their YouTube and other social media platforms."

"What is he talking about with the rise in streams for our videos?" Daphne's voice wavers, as though she has seen a ghost. "Last I heard, the views plateaued about three days ago."

Elma presses a button on her remote, and the TV screen goes dark. She pulls her phone out of her denim pocket and taps the keyboard, then silently shows Fred and Daphne a YouTube video posted by _Talent Star_. The video is a clip of Fred and Daphne performing the song Daphne wrote in the tie-breaker round, which had accrued about 12.5 K views the last time Fred had watched it about five days ago. Now, the video is raking in over 2 million views.

Fred coughs as though he has inhaled fear and panic instead of the herbal incense burning in Elma's house, and Daphne's face pales.

"I was watching another news station just before you guys got here, and they were saying your videos have gone viral since Goose Lake announced that you're the new headlining act for their show," Elma beams, oblivious to Fred and Daphne's rising discomfort. "I've never even watched a single episode of _Talent Star_ , but I bet everyone knows who you guys are now, even if they've never seen the show before!"

"Great, good for us," Fred murmurs under his breath.

"Actually, the Goose Lake Monster is why we came here in the first place," Daphne tactfully segues into the reason why her and Fred first arrived. "Erica told us how you were supposed to be doing hair and make-up for the bands before everyone dropped out, and we were hoping we could talk to you and see if you knew anything, Elma."

"We've been interviewing all of the locals to see what they know," Fred clarifies. "You see, we're actually detectives alongside our friends in a group called 'Mystery Incorporated,' so in addition to helping Jordie and Erica with the concert, we're trying to solve this mystery for them, too."

"Holy shit, that's so kind of you both!" Elma's eyebrows shoot up in admiration. "And you're detectives too, huh? That's really sick, and I really appreciate how you both want to stop this Goose Lake Monster, but I'm sorry to say that I don't think I can be of any help. All I can say is that I was scheduled to work on the hair and make-up for almost every band, aside from the headliner – what was his name again? Oh, yeah, Elliott. So yeah, the other eleven acts reached out to me to work on their hair and make-up for the concert, and I agreed right away. They all told me that even though this revival show sold only about 1,000 tickets compared to the 60,000 or so from the original show, they would still pay me top dollar. But it didn't even matter anyway, because as the monster's attacks got worse, all the other performers began to cancel on me, and now I don't have a single client booked for the next several weeks."

"Oh my gosh, that's terrible," Fred laments with a sigh. His heart stutters for Elma, who, like Erica and Jordie, have suffered more than enough at the hands of this Goose Lake Monster.

"It sure has been tough," Elma sighs. "It's bad enough that the bands all cancelled on me, but with this monster no one wants to leave their house and go out to parties and stuff, so there isn't any reason for anyone to ask me to do their hair and make-up; I have no bookings that are based inside of my home. If it weren't for my part time job at MAC Cosmetics, I'm not sure what I would do."

"I'm so sorry," Daphne coos as she wraps Elma in a hug. "It's so devastating to see how this monster has impacted everyone in Goose Lake. I wish we could help somehow."

Elma's eyes suddenly flicker mischievously as a smile ghosts across her face.

"Actually, there is a way you can help me, Daphne!" Elma taps one corner of her mouth, as though she is lost in thought. "You said you and Fred are performing in the concert this weekend, right? Well, what if you guys let me do your hair and make-up! It would help me recuperate just a little of my business, but every little bit helps after I've taken such a large hit."

Fred stammers, excuses churning in his mind, and before he can reach out blindly and grab one Daphne is saying, "Sure, anything we can do to help you during this time!"

"I was hoping you would say that!" Elma beams before she dashes towards a fire engine red wig situated on top of a male mannequin. She wiggles her eyebrows at Fred as she strides towards him, then shoves the wig onto his head in one yank, causing Daphne to erupt into a fit of giggles.

"I've been dying to put this wig on you since the second you stepped into my door!" Elma trills enthusiastically.

"It looks great on you, Freddy!" Daphne chuckles, her pretty face flush pink with giddiness. "I love the new look!"

When Elma turns away for a brief moment, Fred sticks his tongue out at Daphne, who winks back at him playfully. He feels that wink course through his entire body; the top of his head is suddenly pooling with heat, and he feels it burn all the way down to his toes.

"Hey Elma, I think Daphne would like a wig, too!" Fred sing-songs, resisting the urge to burst into laughter at the way her face is suddenly panicked as Elma whirls towards Daphne with a gleam in her eyes.

"Oh yes, of course, I wasn't planning to leave you out too, dear!" Elma's smile is so wide that Fred is sure her face is going to crack. As she glides towards a flesh colored nylon skullcap, Daphne mouths, "How dare you!" to which Fred merely shrugs and mouths back, "Hey, I couldn't leave you out of the fun!"

Elma strides back towards Daphne with the skullcap and a black colored wig in her hands. First she stretches the skullcap over Daphne's head and feeds her real hair beneath the stretchy fabric, and once Daphne's auburn hair has been controlled, Elma molds and fits the new wig over the cap. As Elma's fingers fly around Daphne's head, adjusting and tucking and smoothing any stray hairs, Fred shakes and trembles with suppressed laughter, which intensifies when Daphne cuts him a glare.

"Okay," Elma stepped back to admire her handiwork. "What do you think, Daph? Do you like it?"

Elma grabs a pink hand sized mirror from the table closest to her and holds it in front of Daphne. Fred's heart stops; he isn't sure what exactly he was expecting, but unsurprisingly, Daphne looks just as stunning with a wig as she does with her real hair. The wig is dark black and sweeps upward into a sleek ponytail, and in spite of the dark shade, it doesn't look overdyed or inauthentic; it makes Fred think of the midnight Michigan sky, of strobing tunnel lights and crisp air running its fingers through his hair as he leans his head out the van's window.

"Look at you both!" Elma squeals. "It's like a perfect match!"

Fred is trying not to think of the double implication of Elma's words, so he hastily replies, "Thanks, Elma, but uh, I'm not totally sure that I'm a wig kind of guy; this color clashes with my ascot, and ah –"

"Oh Fred Jones, don't be so modest!" Elma scolds him with a wink, and this time it's Daphne's turn to stick her tongue out at Fred, and there's something about this action that loosens inside of him and makes him blush, the warmth pooling beneath his cheeks.

"Hold on, the ensemble isn't complete yet!" Elma marches towards her closet and yanks it open, rifling through frilly tops studded with sequins and chic bohemian dresses before her hands stop on two leather biker jackets. She grabs both and strides towards Fred first, slipping the black jacket over his shoulders. Fred doesn't typically gravitate towards leather jackets (something about them just feels corny, and all he can think about is _Grease_ ), but he has to admit, he feels pretty cool right now; the jacket hugs the corded muscles in his arms, and it fits as though it was tailored with his measurements specifically in mind.

Elma nods at Fred, satisfied, and she turns on her heel towards Daphne, draping the red leather jacket around Daphne's slender frame. As he stares at Daphne, Fred's heart is beating so loudly that he is sure Elma and Daphne can both hear it, and he struggles to inhale past the lump in his throat. Daphne, of course, looks so stunning in not only the wig, but now the jacket, too; it accentuates Daphne's curves, making her waist look nipped and corseted, and the flap collar spreads across her chest like wings. Fred's eyes rove all over the living room as he tries not to linger on Daphne for longer than a few seconds, but he can't help himself; his eyes are glued to Daphne, attracted to her like a magnet. (Seriously, how was it possible for someone to look so beautiful no matter what they were wearing?!)

Elma stands back to eye both Fred and Daphne before she darts towards a purple make-up bag resting beside the handheld mirror. "Hang on, I'm almost done!" she exclaims as she rifles through the bag. "Daphne, your make-up already looks so flawless, and I can tell your skincare routine is impeccable because your skin looks so good, but I do want to try one thing with the lips since you aren't wearing lipstick."

"But I am wearing lips –" Daphne begins to protest before Elma uncaps a tube of cool-toned red lipstick and expertly swipes it across her lips in one stroke. Fred's knees are really quivering now; Daphne's lips look fuller now, and the strawberry red shade suits her well, unsurprisingly.

"Okay you two, now that we've added some serious sass to your wardrobe, I think you're ready to hit the stage!" Elma announces, smiling beatifically. "Let's see you two strut your stuff now! C'mon, act like you're striding onto the stage as you're met with thousands of screaming fans!"

Daphne and Fred both exchange an embarrassed smile, and Fred frowns. "Eh, I'm not much for strutting per say – "

Before he can finish speaking, Daphne laces her hand through his and leads him up and down the center of Elma's living room, her hips swaying like they're walking on the streets of New York instead of inside a stranger's house in the middle of Michigan. She sashays back and forth with Fred trailing awkwardly behind her, with their only audience being the unblinking mannequins and an exuberant Elma.

"Come on, Freddy," Daphne smirks at him, and Fred's heart races and his back is coated in a sheen of sweat when he clocks her sultry gaze; something about the way his name tumbles out of her cherry lips makes his thoughts scramble in his head, and he can't think straight.

In his unfocused haze, Fred wraps his right arm around Daphne's shoulder as she slides her left arm around his back and slips her fingers in his free hand, and they walk that way together, hooked hip-to-hip, striding slowly, as though they have all the time in the world and they don't need to rush to get where they're going because no one minds waiting for them. Fred feels electric, as though his veins are live wires thrumming with electricity, and for a fleeting moment, he can't help but wonder if he and Daphne would ever walk this way in public, and if they did, if it would always feel this good.

Initially Fred feels silly sauntering down a pretend catwalk to only the sound of Elma's whoops and high-pitched commands to lift their chin and raise their eyebrows, but Daphne is really into it; she steps with a silly, sugary swagger he's never seen before, and he's feeding off of her energy as she bumps her hip against his as they walk. Maybe it's Daphne's bubbly laughter, which he drinks in like a gin and tonic, or maybe it's Elma's cheers, but before he can even second-guess himself he pauses, causing Daphne to stop moving too, and he enwraps both his arms around her and dips her with a flourish. Elma squeals and laughs as Daphne locks her hands around Fred's neck, and in an instant Fred realizes that their faces are mere inches away from each other; they're so close that he can feel the heat radiating from Daphne's cheeks, and her breath tickles his cheeks as she stares at him, blinking. He is so, so close to kissing her again; all he would have to do is erase the little space that remains between them, something he failed to do last night in his hotel room, and –

The sound of Elma clearing her throat wedges into the moment, and Fred jolts as though a bucket of ice chips has been dumped over his head and he straightens Daphne up with a cough as his senses come crashing down on him. He and Daphne sheepishly rearrange their wigs and smooth the folds of their jackets, mumbling a string of apologies to each other. If Elma has noticed the way the atmosphere is suddenly charged and tense as an impending thunderstorm that hovers over Fred and Daphne, she doesn't say anything; instead, she's too busy rummaging through her closet for a burlap bag, which she offers to Fred and Daphne as they stammer and waltz around Fred's sudden change in demeanor.

"You guys won't regret hiring me for the concert, honestly!" Elma gushes. "Here's a bag for your wigs and jackets, and I'll be sure to be on hand for make-up and costumes on Saturday. Will you be paying with cash or for today?"

Daphne's eyes flicker towards Fred's face as he peels some bills from his wallet and hands them to Elma. Elma hands over the bags, and the three begin to exchange good-byes and promises to speak again soon. But before Fred and Daphne can step onto the front porch, Elma smiles and adds coyly, "For the record, you two make a great couple. I haven't seen _Talent Star_ , but I can tell you have wonderful chemistry."

"Oh, ah, erm, we're not a cute couple, or that is, if we were a couple, which we're not!" Daphne protests, clearly flustered, and Fred feels his arms blanket with goosebumps as he opens his mouth to speak, but he falters, words failing him; this feels eerily reminiscent to when Daphne attested that they were not a couple last week in Chicago, when he and Daphne were speaking with Mel Richmond, and for some reason he can't articulate, the moment feels crushed with melancholy.

"We better get going," Fred finally manages to say. "We have tons of other people to speak to before the day ends. It was great speaking with you, Elma!"

Elma says nothing, but she smiles knowingly at Fred and Daphne as they retreat down her driveway, as though she is carrying a secret about them that only she knows.

* * *

The suburbs of Goose Lake are swollen with people; there's children playing hopscotch on the sidewalks and dogs on leashes yanking their owners across driveways and throngs of young teenagers flowing down the street, talking and laughing as though they're the only people outside enjoying the sunny afternoon. Fred and Daphne have interviewed about twenty more people since they've last spoken with Elma, and their feet are starting to blister and throb from all of the walking; they started out on the cul-de-sac that winds behind Goose Lake, but since then, they've covered about five different streets, and they've walked a good mile from where they first started. To make matters more difficult, neither of them had the foresight to leave the bag Erica had gifted them in the Mystery Machine, so Fred is carrying the wigs and the jacket as they moved door-to-door; he can feel the bag weighing him down like an anchor as he walks.

After interviewing their twentieth civilian, Fred and Daphne looked at each other and silently swapped a look that begged for a rest. Luckily, the street they were on had a cute, mini playground snuggled at the end of the cul-de-sac. There wasn't much in the way of equipment aside from a jungle gym and a constellation of benches sprinkled around the perimeter, but there were still quite a few children spilling over the equipment and leaping around the grass in spite of the smaller park size.

Fred gestured towards an empty bench, and he and Daphne silently settled into their seats, the bench groaning quietly beneath their weight. For a minute, neither of them said a word as they both watched the groups of kids running and jumping and screaming, with not a single care in the entire world. Fred sighed – he could remember the light, feathery feeling of being a child, of waking up on a summer day with the day stretched before him like endless reams of blank white paper. For the most part Fred was pleased with his life and with the adventures he had with his friends, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that there were moments when he wished he could revert back to childhood, especially when they were in the crux of a difficult mystery, as they are right now.

"Okay," Daphne breathes, exhaling an afternoon's worth of names and dead-ends in one long, winded breath. "So, let's review a bit here; would you agree that as of now, no one seems to know anything about this Goose Lake Monster?"

"Agreed," Fred nods. "And would you also agree that there is no clear motive for any of these civilians to be a potential suspect?"

"Yes," Daphne sighs. "I also agree with that."

There's a silence that stretches between them as they both dance with their own thoughts.

"What did you think of Elma?" Daphne finally asks. "I thought she was really nice. It's terrible that the monster has destroyed her business, too."

"Yeah, she was nice, but something about her felt odd at the same time, if I'm being honest," Fred admits wistfully. "Didn't you find it a bit unusual that she just casually has all of those wigs and outfits stored away in that small home? Her house couldn't have been more than one thousand square feet; why would someone want to live that way?"

"Well, she did say she didn't want to bother wasting the money on an office space since she was returning back to California," Daphne muses. "So I didn't think it was unusual at all. Why did you find that odd, Freddy?"

"I just can't explain it," Fred shakes his head. "Something about all those wigs made me think of all the costumes we've unmasked over the years. I like Elma, I truly do, but I think we would be remiss if we didn't consider her a potential suspect. She is a professional make-up artist from Hollywood after all, so couldn't this potentially mean she could have easily outfitted a monster costume?"

"That's assuming the monster is fake," Daphne shivers. "Which, in our experience, usually is the case, but it was odd that he was able to jump back into the lake and escape so easily after he attacked us this morning." Daphne expelled another sigh. "I don't know, Fred; I see your point about Elma, but why would she want to sabotage her own income?"

"Yeah, that's the only snag in my theory," Fred admits dejectedly, kicking a pebble next to his shoe as he speaks. "It's just so hard proceeding with this mystery when we have virtually no leads and no clues at this point, so maybe I'm grasping at straws more than I normally would here. Do ya think Shag, Scoob, and Velma have had more luck than we did today?"

"I'll call them and find out!" Daphne brightens at the suggestion. She grabs her purse and begins to dig through the bottom, but then her eyebrows knit together as she gasps.

"What?! What's wrong?" Fred asks, an unexplainable wave of fear washing over him as he watches the panic mounting on her face.

"My phone, it's gone!" Daphne moans, emptying her bag on the park bench for good measure. "Ugh, I think I left it at the house we just left; I pulled my phone out of my bag to show that man a picture of Elliott when we were interviewing him, and I think I remember leaving it on his kitchen table. I can't believe I was so careless."

"I'll go and grab it really quick," Fred volunteers with a smile before Daphne can even offer to do it herself. "You just stay here and rest. We still have to walk back to the Mystery Machine, so we have a lot of walking ahead of us still."

Daphne beams, and Fred feels as though her smile has wrapped around his chest and constricted him, making him sputter for air. "Thanks, Freddy!" she says warmly. "That's really kind of you."

Fred nods wordlessly, bounding off towards the house with a wave of his hand and shouting, "I'll be right back!" He sees Daphne recline against the bench as she smiles distractedly, watching the kids starting a game of tag. The summer wind blows tendrils of cigarette smoke and freshly cut grass that tickles his cheeks as Fred lopes down the street, eyeing the house they had just visited several feet ahead, and his mind tugs him back to when they were at Elma's house earlier. Once again, just as she had last week, Daphne was quick to attest that she and Fred were not an official couple, and he would be lying if he didn't say that a tiny corner of his heart had cracked off, flitting daintily towards the ground when she spoke. He had spent the last several days telling himself not to overthink every little thing, but that had snowballed spectacularly, and now he was sinking in his thoughts, as though he was submerged in quick sand. When he and Daphne were walking towards Elma's front door, he had resigned himself to monitoring Daphne's reaction before he could decide if he should move forward with speaking to her about his feelings, but he was starting to fray like the ends of a loose string. What is he supposed to think and feel if Daphne keeps vehemently opposing the idea that they're a couple? And what if –

A scream spears the afternoon air, slicing Fred's thoughts, and he flinches, his eyes raving up and down the street as he searches for the source of the scream. All around him everyone has stilled, as though the street has collectively held their breath; a young boy on the other side of the street is frozen, leg dangling in the air as he pauses mid-jump in a game of hopscotch, and just behind him a woman turns around slowly, her panic streaking across her face. Even the animals are still, as the birds have stopped twittering and chirping in the trees and the dogs have ceased barking and howling. The eerie silence blankets over the cracks in the sidewalks and the roofs of the houses and the mothers scooping up their crying children before another screech erupts down the street, and Fred feels this desperate howl in the cavity of his chest, reverberating throughout his body like a vibration from a loudspeaker. A shiver ripples over Fred, and he glances back towards the park where he left Daphne; he can't explain it, but something is definitely not right, and he somehow intrinsically knows he should probably go back to collect her before he does anything else.

Fred turns on his heel, preparing to turn and go back down the street when he clocks the Goose Lake Monster just up the road ahead of him, standing on its back legs and eyeing everyone in sight with its beady red eyes. His green scales are glimmering in the sun, and he looks like all ropy muscle and teeth and nails as he unleashes another gut-wrenching shriek, leaping towards a man who's watering his front lawn just a few feet away from him. The man shrinks back slowly, holding his hands up in surrender, and it's then that the Goose Lake Monster barks in the same robotic voice as earlier, "I want Fred and Daphne, NOW! Surrender them, and you'll all be saved!"

The frozen street suddenly explodes, and people are flying apart from each other like shrapnel. Goose Lake is throbbing with white-hot panic and cries and screams as people race in all directions while the monster hurtles towards anyone he can, leaning in closely to examine their faces before he tosses them aside with a casual deference. Fred watches, jaw-slacked, as a man runs towards the reptile in an effort to tackle him, only for the monster to sweep its webbed feet beneath the man's legs, sending the man careening to the pavement. Undeterred, the monster plows forward, forcing his tank-sized body into bystanders like a battering-ram, his eyes hunting for its prey. Shockingly, he doesn't purposely swipe at anyone unless they attempt to incapacitate him, almost as if he is intent on finding something or someone specific, and when Fred notices the monster drinking in the faces of those who surround him, his heart sinks in his chest when he realizes it's because the Goose Lake Monster is interested in finding a specific person: him and Daphne.

Fred's feet are already churning before his brain even processes his next steps, and he zigzags through the groups of frantic people knotting the sidewalks and the streets. All around him people are taking cover inside their houses, as doors slam shut behind Fred while he barrels down the street. He realizes with a jolt that he and Daphne will have nowhere to hide; they can try and go in someone's backyard, but they're all fenced off, so the only other option is knocking on someone's front door and hoping they can take refuge until the monster passes, which isn't likely; why would someone answer the door when the monster is rampaging through the streets? Fred attempts to silence the panic bubbling inside of him as his feet pound against the pavement, his breath spluttering as he sees the park where he left Daphne coming into focus. He hears another shriek split the air behind him, and he notices the groups of children and their parents pausing as every eye swivels towards the sound, suddenly aware of the impending doom.

"What's going on?!" Daphne raises herself from the bench and grips Fred's shoulder, her pretty face splashed with fear.

"No time," Fred rasps, slipping his hand in Daphne's just as the monster unleashes another ear-piercing scream, causing the children at the park to scatter as they begin to pour down the street. Some scream for their parents, while others race towards homes, banging the front doors behind them with a resounding _THUD_. Fred squeezes Daphne's hand once as he whispers, as though the monster isn't right in front of them and not further down the street, "The Goose Lake Monster is here, and he's looking for us."

Daphne gulps, her brows furrowed as she begins to shake. "Us?! How do you know for sure?"

The monster erupts again, and Fred begins to tug her down the street so that they're trotting away from the open, exposed park, which offers no protection nor hiding place.

"I know because the monster said he was looking for us specifically, and it looks like he isn't even attacking anyone because he's so intent on finding us," Fred pants as he runs.

The Goose Lake Monster's bouldering footfalls reach Fred and Daphne now, who pause on someone's front lawn as they see the towering reptile in the distance. Sure enough, it's apparent he is seeking Fred and Daphne; as he tears down the street he pauses to gaze into someone's face briefly before moving on to the next person. As long as the civilians aren't Fred and Daphne, then it seems as though they're safe, even if they are terrified. But what does that mean for Fred and Daphne? Fred shudders, a shiver forking down his back as he ponders this.

"We have to hide," Daphne whispers tersely, her eyes darting everywhere.

"How?! Everyone is starting to run inside, and there's no way we're going to convince anyone to open the door for us with this thing running around!" Fred is frantic, his eyes bulging out of his face and his pulse thundering in his ears so loudly that it practically mutes the Goose Lake Monster's exclamations as the creature draws nearer and nearer.

Daphne snaps her fingers together and exclaims, "I've got it! We'll just disguise ourselves with the stuff Elma gave us." She hoists the bag on her shoulder and fishes for the wigs and the leather jackets that Elma sold them only an hour ago, hastily pulling the skullcap over her head before messily applying the black wig. With shaky hands, Fred yanks his red wig over his head and slides the jacket over his shoulders, but there's no way this will be enough; just down the road he sees the Goose Lake Monster peering into people's faces closely for a beat before he moves on to the next petrified civilian. Worse yet, he's running out of options; the street is quickly thinning out, as doors creak and shut while people huddle in fear.

"This isn't going to work," Fred bemoans as Daphne slides her arms through her jacket. "This was a good idea overall, but I think he's going to recognize our faces still. And we're running out of time!"

Something indecipherable glazes across Daphne's face, and she murmurs solemnly, "I think I've got it." With a strength Fred didn't even realize Daphne had she tugs him into the narrow strip between two houses, tucking themselves against the side of one house with no fence. He cocks an eyebrow at her inquisitively as she blushes, and she leans in and whispers, "He won't catch us if he can't see our faces distinctly."

Fred's thoughts begin spinning out as he attempts to process what Daphne is implying. She nudges him up against the side of the house almost roughly, plowing into him until his back is smashed against the wall, and then she shoves herself up against him so their bodies are fused together. "Please just trust me," her breath wafts across Fred's face in uneven spurts as the Goose Lake Monster gurgles nearby, the noise sounding as though it's only around the corner now.

Fred doesn't even have a chance to respond before Daphne swings her arms around Fred's neck, drawing him in until their foreheads are touching. "Play along with me," she whispers, and before he can even ask for a script or a cue or an idea of what she is talking about Daphne leans in and presses her lips against his mouth.

Fred logs the passing of one clean second before he responds, his body taking over as his mind shuts down, his thoughts corkscrewing into chaos and fragmented, single-worded exclamations, most of which are four-letter swear words. He wraps his arms around Daphne's waist so he can pull her even closer; he feels like he's drowning, holding onto Daphne for dear life, bouncing aimlessly between different sensations such as the rapid gunfire of his heart and the thrum of Daphne's heart pushing against his chest, her apricot scented shampoo tickling his nostrils, and the tart strawberry lip gloss coated on her lips. Fred is kissing her hungrily, starving for her after all of this time, and then Daphne parts her lips and he moans when he feels her tongue stroking his, causing him to jolt; it's as though there are sparks on the end of her tongue, electrifying every nerve ending and every bone in his body.

The monster's sharp cries are close now; Fred guesses he is right in front of the house they're hiding beside. Just as suddenly as she kissed him Daphne retreats, but she dips her chin into the cleft of Fred's neck, eliciting a small groan in the back of Fred's throat.

"Sorry," Daphne whispers, and Fred has the wild thought to tell her not to be sorry, that she has no reason to apologize ever again as long as she's making him feel this good; he's almost forgotten the reason they're doing this until he feels the wail of the creature strumming across his chest. They burrow into each other even closer in response, and Fred shivers as Daphne's lips press against his neck; it feels like his skin is on fire, every nerve and every part of him burning beneath her fingers, which begin traveling up and down his spine as the monster's steps draw closer. "He's coming," her words flutter like gauzy butterfly wings across his skin. "Shhh – hide your face, now!"

Fred takes Daphne's cue and buries his face in her wig, weaving his fingers through her soft hair as they fold into each other; her mouth is still smashed against his clavicle and his lips still brush against her ear while the hair from her wig wisps across his nose. Their hearts are pattering like hummingbirds, and Fred prays they blend into the house and play a convincing role as the lovesick young couple who can't be bothered to stop making out as a monster thrashes through town. They remain like this, faces concealed and tucked into each other's necks and hands roaming ravenously down each other's backs as the Goose Lake Monster pants behind them curiously; Fred guesses he's about ten steps away from them now. He hears the monster cough and murmur, and he can practically imagine the confusion knotting his grotesque features as he studies Fred and Daphne. After what feels like forever but is probably only a few seconds the creature sneers with pointed disgust and squeals once more, and then Fred hears it retreating away from them, moving further and further down the street until the silence absorbs him.

Fred and Daphne remain frozen, and she doesn't pull herself off of his body until the front door to the house behind them swings open and a man's shouts carry down the street, informing the neighborhood that the monster has vanished. They stagger from the shadows of the home and surreptitiously glance around as people begin frothing from their homes, bursting with curses and cries about the most recent attack. Someone is demanding that Fred and Daphne turn themselves in and spare the city, which causes panic to swell over the couple, who exchange a wordless look and begin moving down the street, walking towards the street where Fred has left the Mystery Machine.

There's an indecipherable silence hanging over them as they move now; Daphne is smoothing the wig on her head and Fred is straightening the creases on his jacket. It's evident that neither of them wish to be the first one to speak, and Fred is still recovering from this most recent scare; lingering adrenaline ignites aftershocks through his bones, causing him to flinch at any sudden movement in his peripheral vision. But maybe it's because something has noticeably shifted between him and Daphne now; the threat is over, but Fred can't run and hide from the last few minutes and what had happened between them. He can't escape it, and it makes him feels as though he is ensnared in one of his own nets.

 _"Come on Fred, say something_ ," He berates himself, then clears his throat.

"Uh, thanks for that," Fred offers shyly, but then he feels a blush pool from the top of his head all the way to the soles of his feet inside of his shoes as he realizes that his thank you can be interpreted in multiple ways. "I mean, thanks for your quick thinking back there," Fred clarifies hurriedly. "I don't think he recognized us with the disguise, and the, ah, ya know."

"You're welcome," Daphne's nods curtly, but that's all she offers. Fred exhales; he wants to ask her if the kiss (which one? There are two now! TWO!) meant as much to her as it did to him; the question beats inside of him like a second heart.

"Daphne," Fred pulls her to a stop on the sidewalk beside him, and he gazes into her sparkling green eyes before he continues, "There's something I want to ask you."

"Well, that's good, because there's something I need to tell you," Daphne gulps; Fred notices the perspiration beading on her forehead.

"Oh, you can go first then," he replies hastily, his breath trapped in his throat.

"Oh no, really, you can go first," Daphne insists. Fred resists the urge to scream; why does this feel so achingly familiar?

"Well, all right," Fred exhales. _Here it goes_. "Daphne, I just wanted to say, I – "

"FRED! DAPHNE! Is that you guys?!"

Fred and Daphne grimace as they recoil away from each other, turning to face Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby as they head towards them from down the street.

"Oh, hey Velma," Daphne responds shakily, and in one swift yank she pulls the wig off her head. "I can't believe you guys recognized us with these silly wigs on our heads!"

"Like, Scoob and I can smell the Scooby Snacks in your purse from a mile away!" Shaggy laughs as Scooby giggles. "But like, what's up with the silly get-up, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe what just happened," Fred declares, trying not to think about the double meaning behind his words. "The monster just attacked, and we barely got away by dressing up in the wigs and the jacket!"

"And worse yet, he specifically called out Freddy and me," Daphne mourns. "He is getting riskier and making it really apparent he doesn't want us in this show."

Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby gasp collectively.

"Jinkies!" Velma exclaims. "We better get moving then; it looks like there is more and more at stake here now. I propose that we return to the hotel and regroup for a bit, and then we can reconvene with Jordie, Sid, and Erica. C'mon gang, we better hurry!"

Daphne and Fred trade a furtive glance, and at the same time they both chorus, "Ah, yeah, let's go!"

And just like that, all pretenses have been dropped once more; Fred feels the moment slip between his fingers like sand, and he's reminded of when he and Daphne had left Chicago last week. It had felt like they were so close, teetering on the edge of something, hanging precariously over a cliff, both wanting to reveal something before it ever quite grew to fruition –

_"Yeah, this is beautiful and I loved it and all, but does anyone else get the sense that this is as far as Fred and Daphne will ever take things? Or worse yet, maybe it was all for show?"_

The comment ScoobyDoobyDoo left on DeviantArt smacks Fred in the face, suffocating him like a death sentence, and it flashes through his mind swift as lightning. He can't help but feel like a man condemned as the words waft over his skin and echo with each beat of his erratic heart – _As far as it will go THUMP-THUMP, all for show THUMP-THUMP, as far as it will go THUMP-THUMP, all for show THUMP-THUMP_. Why is this random internet stranger's damning remarks causing Fred to cough and suffocate for air?

Fred's skin prickles, and he notices Daphne staring at him, her eyes drilling into him as she attempts to read what's on his mind. He can't explain why his heart whispers aggressively in his ear like a coconspirator as he looks at the space between his feet guiltily, avoiding eye contact with her. His recollection of the remark now crushes the moment with resounding melancholy; whenever he's standing close to Daphne now, all he can think of are the stream of internet comments washing over him, drowning him in uncertainty and hesitation because one resounding comment stands tall above the rest, above the stans and the fans, above the shippers and the fangirls and fanboys. ScoobyDoobyDoo, he realizes with a start, is absolutely correct; the closest Fred and Daphne will ever come to becoming an established couple is the simmering "will they/won't they" anticipation that flickers against Fred's nerves and torches through the comments section on internet forums. It's the tale that's narrated his life, and he knows the conclusion will always look like this: good friends who flirt and skirt around the issue, but who never quite pull the trigger. But he is so tired of skirting around the issue. He is exhausted with continuously churning over these interactions in his mind and studying them like an ancient text; he's frustrated with glimpsing into the murky rivers of their conversation and retreating to shore when it seems like things are becoming questionable.

 _As far as it will go THUMP-THUMP, all for show THUMP-THUMP, as far as it will go THUMP-THUMP, all for show THUMP-THUMP._ He is tired of his heart's betrayal; he is tired of being its accomplice. It was time to admit this wasn't a fairy tale, and that he and Daphne would, at best, always just be good friends, and that's it. After all, Fred had stopped believing in fairy tales so long ago; that was kid's stuff. When he was child, his favorite movie was _Peter Pan_ , and he remembers how he broke his arm and shattered his ankles in an attempt to glide through the air after he tried jumping off of his family's garage. What stands out above the physical pain was how his older cousin jeered at Fred when he recounted the story and explained that he was just trying to fly. "Stupid kid," his cousin sneered. "You'll learn to stop crying when you figure out that fairy tales aren't even real."

He knows that fairy tales aren't real, and he knows this fairy tale with Daphne isn't real; he _knows_ this.

So why does he still feel like crying?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Hello, hey, hi, happy new year and I'm sorry I took so long to update this! I've had a lot of things going on in my life these past several weeks; my family caught Covid, I had to quarantine (but never got sick), and I've been going through a mess of other things, too, but I'm trying to focus on my writing as a means to escape. I hope you're ready for updates, because I'm churning out these next two chapters fairly quickly! I hope to finish this story by the end of February, absolute latest, if not sooner. Here's hoping people still care about this story, and review if you feel inclined! - iamacliche

Fred is being watched.

He shifts uneasily from where he stands facing his hotel bed, willing himself to pay attention to Velma’s voice as it weaves in and out of his thoughts, but he can’t ignore the blistering glare from the woman in the painting that hangs on the wall; his back is burning beneath her fixed gaze, and Fred swears he would find a splotchy red sunburn on his chest if he were to lift up his shirt.

“Did you guys learn anything during your interview, Shag and Velma?” Daphne asks, her voice light and casual. Fred is hyper-aware of her presence from where she sits on the bed as she twirls a strand of auburn hair around her nail and examines her split-ends absent-mindedly. Ever since the “fakeout-makeout” (as Fred has dubbed it in his mind), Daphne has been smooth, with not a single a ripple or a snag in her demeanor. If Fred didn’t know better, he would think nothing noteworthy had happened between them during their rounds through the suburbs of Goose Lake. It makes him feels like a glass of water filled to the brim; one slight nudge, and everything sloshing around inside of him is going to spill over in an avalanche of emotion.

Fred knows his friends detect something in the charged atmosphere, or at the very least, Shaggy and Scooby certainly do. After Fred parked the Mystery Machine at the hotel, everyone had trickled out of the van, intent on discussing their interviews and comparing notes between the two groups. As Daphne and Velma loped towards the bedroom the guys had shared last night, which was the agreed rendezvous spot, Shaggy gripped Fred’s elbow and yanked him to the side, with Scooby right on his heels.

“Like, Fredster, what’s goin’ on?!” Shaggy asked, trepidation laced in his tone. “Scoob and I can like, tell somethin’ happened while you guys were with Daph!”

“Rust rell us what’s wrong, Red,” Scooby said gently.

Fred’s tough exterior thawed and melted a bit, but he still turned his face away roughly, glowering at the space between his shoes on the ground. The guys meant well, but he felt foolish waxing poetic about the unrequited love he harbored for Daphne, especially in light of what had just transpired.

“Don’t worry about it, guys,” Fred murmured. “I think I’m still just exhausted from the lack of sleep I got last night. I’ll have to make sure I actually sleep more tonight if I want to be fresh for the concert this weekend.”

Fred pivoted around his friends very pointedly as Shaggy and Scooby arched their eyebrows incredulously, but seeing that they weren’t going to pry anything out of Fred with this storm cloud hovering over him, they shrugged and followed him into their hotel room. Daphne and Velma were already piled on Fred’s bed, and Daphne had just finished telling Velma about their encounter with Elma. She also detailed how the Goose Lake Monster had attacked the town and attempted to hunt Fred and Daphne, but Fred noticed that she tactfully omitted the part where they had kissed from the story; instead, she offered an abridged version, explaining that they had gone undetected by donning the wigs and jackets Elma had sold them earlier that day. He tried to ignore the pathetic twanging sound his heart emitted in response.

“That was very resourceful of you,” Velma beamed, enthralled by Daphne’s quick-thinking. Shaggy and Scooby draped themselves on the side of the bed, which forced Fred to choose where he would insert himself amongst his friends. Daphne and Velma were both sitting upright with their legs tucked beneath them gracefully, while Shaggy and Scooby flopped lazily on their stomachs near Fred’s pillow. Instead of being scrutinized by Shaggy and Scooby if he decided to sit opposite of Daphne, Fred chose to stand, leaning uneasily against the dresser with his arms crossed as his friends talked; the only trade-off was that now he felt as though he was dissolving beneath the woman in the painting’s gaze. It felt as though Fred couldn’t get comfortable no matter what he did today.

Fred watches his friends, detached, as though he is viewing the scene unfurl before him like a play on stage while he has a seat in the audience. What is he supposed to do about his situation with Daphne now? He knows Shaggy and Scooby would command him to “just talk to her,” but it was getting increasingly difficult the more time goes on, and now that there is a second kiss with an even more conflicting response on her end, it isn’t so straightforward. Obviously Daphne was the one who initiated the kiss this time around, but this was for the sake of keeping them safe during a monster attack; wouldn’t he look like an insane, desperate fool if he read any deeper into it? Shouldn’t he just be grateful she was quick on her feet and the monster was fooled into thinking they were two love-sick teenagers? Why would Fred want to risk making things a thousand times more awkward by bombarding her with questions? No – the best thing to do was just to ride this mystery out and move on. As soon as the Goose Lake Monster was unmasked, Fred would have no problem piling into the Mystery Machine and leaving this mystery – and yet another kiss – behind in his rearview mirror once again.

Fred sighs. ScoobydoobyDoo on DeviantArt was right; this really was a common denominator with all of his and Daphne’s interactions. If an internet stranger can see this, then Fred had to start realizing this, too. That meant Fred had to start focusing on this mystery, but his brain felt fuzzy, as though a fog had begun to slowly billow into his head. Everything was starting to grind at his raw, blistering nerves: this second kiss, the lack of sleep, this mystery, and his friends’ insistent questions and furtive, concerned glances. And right now, this creepy painting was only making the situation worse. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman was following Fred every time he so much as breathed or blinked an eye…

Shaggy and Scooby snapped Fred back to reality as they began rummaging through the burlap bags for the wigs and jackets. “Like, say, this Elma lady has some great taste!” Shaggy trills, pulling on Fred’s jacket as Scooby shimmied into Daphne’s red blazer. “I, like, love her style!”

“Do you think she has any connection to the Goose Lake Monster?” Velma asks, rolling her eyes playfully at Shaggy and Scooby, who begin taking selfies on Shaggy’s cell phone. “It sure seems odd that a costume and make-up artist from California is cooped up here in Michigan with all of those cosmetics and clothing.”

“That’s what I wondered, too,” Daphne speculates. “The only thing Freddy and I can’t figure out is why she would want to sabotage her own business; she came out and admitted she’s struggling to stay afloat now without the clients from the Goose Lake Concert.”

“Well, you two got more leads than we did,” Velma sighs. “All of the citizens seemed really frightened by the monster; we can’t figure out why any of them would have a motive to end the concert, either. It seems like the people living in Goose Lake now are a lot more laidback than the ones on the documentary.”

“We noticed that, too!” Daphne nods vehemently. “The civilians we spoke to all seemed really bummed out about the show being called off. There isn’t one single person who threatened to move or call the cops; in fact, they all seemed excited to be able to hear the concert from their backyard.”

“Like, I don’t blame them!” Shaggy sing-songs. “I would love to hear a free show from my backyard; then I could have, like, total access to my fridge at the same time!”

“You’re awful quiet, Fred; what did you think of the people you and Daphne spoke with?” Velma inquires, treading carefully as she glances at Fred’s sour expression.

Fred’s thoughts are spinning and he feels as though he may start hyperventilating, suffocating for air as he attempts to clear his thoughts. His mind is humming and flickering with the images of Daphne’s lips on his and the Goose Lake monster rampaging through town and Elma’s rainbow colored living room, but all of it feels like static and white noise because all he can think of is –

“I’m sorry, I just can’t focus as long as I’m staring at that painting!” Fred booms, causing everyone to flinch. It’s the painting; it’s definitely the painting that’s making his skin crawl as though ants are marching along his arms. It couldn’t possibly be anything else that’s bothering him right now.

“Are you sure there isn’t something else going on with you, Freddy?” Velma inquires, her eyes squinting as she studies him. “It just feels like something is off –“

“Goddamit Velma, he said it’s the painting that’s bothering him!” Daphne snaps waspishly. “Can we just focus on the mystery here? Freddy is fine!”

Velma’s eyes are roving back and forth between Fred and Daphne, as though she is watching an intense volleyball game. Fred gulps; Daphne has very aggressively underscored that there may indeed be a problem just based on her tone alone. Velma isn’t stupid; she knows her friends well, and she is, after all, a detective. He waits for everything to settle in Velma’s brain; he can practically hear the buttons clicking and panel lights switching in her head when Shaggy suddenly murmurs, “I think that painting, is like, haunted or somethin’, too; I swear I didn’t sleep a wink last night because I could feel it watching me and Scoob all night.”

Fred groans, and he’s ready to throw his hands up in the air with exasperation. He’s about to remind Shaggy that him and Scooby were both out cold like Sleeping Beauty before Velma asserts, “Gang, I think the boys are right; something is off about that painting.”

An eerie silence drapes over the five friends as everyone freezes; Fred realizes he isn’t even breathing once he notices his chest begin to burn. Slowly, they all drag their eyes towards the painting, and Daphne whispers, “What’s wrong with the painting, Velma?”

“It might be a hunch, but I think I see something in her eye,” Velma speaks slowly and calmly, hoping to avoid injecting panic into her friends, particularly Shaggy and Scooby. “Could someone help me take it down?”

Fred strides across the hotel room, his skin icing over with goosebumps and his spine tingling with premonition as he and Velma grip the mahogany frame and exchange surreptitious glances. “On the count of three,” Velma instructs. “One…two…three.”

The painting weighs less than Fred had initially guessed, and it peels off the walls easily. Shockingly, there is no imprint etched onto the wall that has been left over time, which is what one would expect from an old painting, but perhaps it’s because someone _has_ touched it recently; sure enough, much to Velma’s credit, Fred instantly notes something tiny and black suction cupped to the wall. It’s so small he’s certain that it could fit in the middle of Scooby’s paw, and it’s circular, with an appearance similar to a compact disc. An average person may not have known what the object was at a glance, but Fred and his friends have been doing this for so long that there’s no mistaking the camera the second Mystery Incorporated spot it.

Fred sucks a breath in through his teeth as a collective gasp blooms in the hotel room. “Jinkies, I had a feeling there was a camera here,” Velma murmurs, her voice surprisingly calm.

“LIKE, ZOINKS!” Shaggy yelps, as Scooby burrows himself beneath the bed. “How long has that been there, man? And like, who is it that’s been spyin’ on us?”

“I have a feeling that whoever placed this here is the very same person who is behind the Goose Lake Monster persona,” Velma muses.

“That makes sense, but why would they plant this in the guys’ hotel room?” Daphne asks the question all of her friends are wondering. “What would they have to gain by doing that?”

“Like, isn’t a good ole fashion scare tactic enough of a reason?!” Shaggy bellows. “So was that thing watchin’ us while we slept last night? How long has it been there?”

When Shaggy speculates on how long the camera has been there, Daphne and Fred both instinctively snap their heads up and stare at each other, a warm, rosy blush deepening on their cheeks. Fred knows Daphne is thinking what he is thinking, too; if the camera has been there since the guys checked into the hotel, then it recorded them practicing and planning their setlist, and every moment in between, too…

Fred can see the panic consuming and engulfing his friends as it builds like a fire, so he steps forward assertively and exclaims firmly, “Okay, so someone has been spying on us; it’s not like we haven’t dealt with this before, so – “

“Like, Fred, buddy, has anyone ever actually planted a camera in our hotel room?! How many times has that actually happened before?!” Shaggy screeches, his voice squeaky and frantic, as though he has huffed tons of helium. “Like, no, never, nada, zilch! Whoever did this is, like, truly crazy!”

“Ri am ready to go home!” Scooby barks from beneath the bed.

“Jinkies you guys, come on now!” Velma huffs, rolling her eyes at Shaggy and Scooby’s protests. “I know this is a bit unsettling, but it’s just another piece we’ll add to the puzzle that is this mystery. Surely it all has to make sense eventually, right? I’m dying to study this camera and see if we can figure out how to use this; I don’t see a screen on here anywhere, so my guess is someone is controlling it via Wifi or with their phone, and maybe that’s how they’re viewing the footage, as well.”

“Jeepers, this mystery just gets weirder and weirder,” Daphne sighs. “Why would someone want to spy on us? It just doesn’t add up.”

“I need to try and figure out how this camera works,” Velma says again, her eyes flickering around the room. “I’m not sure if it’s still recording or not, and at the very least, I would feel better knowing what exactly it’s capable of and how to disable it. Fred and Daphne, you guys borrowed the laptop last night to work on your set for this weekend, right? Where did you guys leave it? I need to try and locate this camera on the internet so I can read up on it.”

“I didn’t touch it last; Freddy kept it,” Daphne mumbles, but the way her voice sounds is almost accusatory, as though Fred has done something criminal.

“Well, I put it under my bed last night before I went to bed,” Fred replies defensively; why does he feel the need to explain himself? And why does his skin feel as though it’s coated with a nervous sweat? Yeah, he used the laptop to poke around online all night, but it’s not like the gang can find out; Velma just needs to use Google so she can learn about the camera. What could possibly go wrong? And why does Fred feel his heart pounding against his chest like a hammer and whispering in his ear like a coconspirator?

Velma lobs Fred and Daphne an inquisitive look, as though she wants to ask them something, but she apparently decides against it. She drops onto the ground and yanks the laptop out from underneath Fred’s bed, which was where he tucked it away after Shaggy found him last night; just the memory of Shaggy catching Fred makes the embarrassment flare within him again, and he takes deep, even breaths to reassure himself that he has no reason to worry, but just as soon as he’s calmed his rattled nerves, Velma exclaims, “Hey, the laptop is glowing and it’s still turned on; did you two forget to switch it off last night after you were done using it?”

Velma’s words immediately trigger a memory in Fred’s foggy, hazy mind, and a memory suddenly detonates inside his brain. The lack of sleep inhibits him from recalling every single thing from last night, but he does remember this: Shaggy startling Fred as he stared at a BDSM-esque fan art of him and Daphne. This: the jolt of electricity that swam through Fred’s veins and made him slam the laptop screen shut as Shaggy’s eyes narrowed at Fred questioningly. And, damningly, Fred remembers this: his hands trembling, as though he had committed a crime or a murder, as he slid the laptop beneath the bed in a fumbling, mumbling stupor, all the while not once even bothering to ensure he had shut off the laptop, let alone clear any internet browsers or close any tabs.

A sharp, metallic taste coats the roof of Fred’s mouth as the panic washes over him like a tidal wave, tugging and pulling him into a pit of terror as he rasps for breath, suffocating like a man drowning, and maybe he is a drowning man, reaching his arms out slowly, sluggishly, as though he’s trapped beneath the surface of the ocean as he struggles to loosen the words knotted in his throat, but he’s too late; Velma swings the laptop open and her sharp inhale of breath violently slices through the silence. 

“What’s wrong, Velma?!” Daphne asks, concern creased in her forehead as she, Shaggy, and Scooby approach Velma, clamoring around her to see what has caused the color to drain from Velma’s cheeks.

One surreptitious glance at Velma tells Fred exactly what it is wrong with Velma; he can already imagine exactly what she is staring at based on the horror etched in her soft features. He can envision the fan art now, with the orange ascot tied around Daphne’s wrists, the hungry, vulnerable look on Fred’s face as he moves towards Daphne, and the text that accompanies the art, which still fists a ball of leaden nerves in his stomach: “ _Because we all know what Fred actually means when he says he loves traps ;)”_

Fred’s heart is pounding so aggressively that he is sure it’s going to carve through his chest and plummet onto the ground; he rocks back and forth on his heels and tugs the collar of his shirt anxiously, his face on fire and his skin simmering beneath Velma’s wide, shocked eyes. He feels as though the room is suddenly a thousand degrees, and he half expects to see the ground sweltering and sizzling with tendrils of smoke; surely he will be boiled alive before his friends can interrogate him, and at this point, death would be the preferable option.

But the worst part is when Daphne makes a choking sound in her throat and stumbles backwards, reeling, retreating a few steps as though the image has struck her in the face. Unlike Velma’s wan face, Daphne’s face erupts in a cluster of red splotches on her pale skin, and Fred isn’t sure if it’s because she’s embarrassed or enraged, or both. Before Fred can disintegrate into fear and anxiety, he tears his eyes away from Daphne and looks at Shaggy and Scooby, who are surprisingly underwhelmed compared to the girls. Scooby’s eyebrows are dipped into a “V” as he blinks at the screen, a look of confusion scrawled on his face. Meanwhile, Fred notices Shaggy flinch, but it’s very miniscule, and when his eyes flicker from Fred to Daphne before focusing back on Fred again, Shaggy manages to recover admirably, his face stoic and neutral aside from the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

“Ri don’t ret it,” Scooby murmurs. “Ri is everyone so rangry? Rhat does rhis even mean? And is rhat rhy you like traps, Red?”

Scooby’s childlike innocence, while usually charming, feels suffocating now, and it immediately results in a withering glare from Daphne. If Fred was melting beneath the tension before, he’s liquid now; he half-expects to dissolve into a murky puddle of embarrassment right here, in the middle of this hotel room amongst his friends. He can’t even look at Daphne; he’s too mortified to even try and interpret any expression flickering across her face.

The five friends remain trapped in the elastic seconds that stretch between them agonizingly, until finally Velma raises her head slowly, a question swimming in her brown irises.

“Jinkies, what’s going on here?” Velma finally musters, her eyes wavering between Fred and then Daphne. “Why – I don’t even know how to ask this, but why is this – “

Before Fred can even stammer out an explanation, Shaggy raises his hand coolly and interrupts Velma.

“Like, actually Velm, it’s all me,” Shaggy says quickly, with only a miniscule trace of embarrassment bleeding into his voice.

Velma stares at Shaggy incredulously as Fred hunches his shoulders and turns away from his friends slightly, eyeing the carpet as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world right now. His thoughts are racing in his head, and he reminds himself to take deep, even breaths, even though it feels as though a boulder has been rolled onto his chest. But when Shaggy takes the fall for Fred, he snaps his head up in surprise. The only acknowledgement Shaggy offers Fred in response is a slight nod and a wink.

Velma stares skeptically at Shaggy just a few beats too long.

“ _You’re_ the one who was looking at this last night?” Velma parrots, her voice harsh. “I’m sorry, that makes absolutely no sense. I mean, what in the world is going on, Shaggy? How can you explain this to Fred and Daphne?”

Fred considers stepping in and admitting it was him all along when he notices a crimson blush creep up Shaggy’s neck and spill onto his cheeks, but when Fred chances one glimpse at Daphne, that bravado immediately wisps into the air like smoke; Daphne is so embarrassed that she won’t even look at anyone, instead immersed in what is apparently a riveting stain on the rug near her purple heel. He wishes more than anything that he had the power to read her mind, because right now Fred can’t gauge what she thinks and how she feels aside from what she conveys with her rigid body and scarlet cheeks.

The room is silent as everyone waits eagerly for Shaggy’s response. Fred holds his breath, the guilt tearing at his stomach like a claw even as the mortification still gnaws at his skin and buzzes inside his ribcage.

“Like, it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Shaggy protests, throwing his hands up defensively, like a soldier surrendering during a battle. “But like, as soon as we’ve been here, I’ve just heard ‘Fred and Daphne this,’ and ‘Fred and Daphne that,’ from like, everyone in town. Part of me was, like, curious, all right? So I like, googled their name, and like, this popped up online! That’s all it is, man.”

Fred stares in awe at Shaggy as he speaks, and he immediately realizes that in that moment, Shaggy had pieced together why Fred was on the computer last night, and apparently Shaggy had now swiftly decided to take the blame for his friend. Apparently, the gang don’t give Shaggy enough credit, but he is a detective; why wouldn’t he figure it all out in that moment? The only thing that shocks Fred now is why Shaggy is deciding to take the fall for his friend; what had Fred done to deserve this kind of selfless friendship?

Velma has one hand on her hip as she chews her lips thoughtfully. She narrows her eyes dubiously at Shaggy, who squirms only slightly beneath her scrutinizing gaze.

“So it was _you_ then?” Velma draws out each syllable carefully, her eyes still drifting between Fred and Daphne, as though she expects one of them to step in and correct Shaggy at any second. Fred’s shirt clings to his damp skin, the sweat coating his back and his chest; he knows he should step forward and tell the truth and spare his friend, but he can’t even push out a single word; it feels as though is tongue is tied into knots.

“I’m sorry, I just find it difficult to believe you were on here to satiate your own curiosity, Shaggy,” Velma says pointedly, and Fred swears she is staring at him as she speaks.

“Well, like, you better believe it!” Shaggy replies almost too quickly. Scooby eyes him curiously, and he opens his mouth as though he is about to say something. Fred feels the panic jabbing his skin; he knows Scooby remembers waking up to Fred sitting on the laptop, and he fully expects the dog to speak up and ruin everything before Shaggy pats Scooby’s head reassuringly and lovingly, as though his hands are transmitting a message into Scooby’s brain, urging his friend to remain silent. Somehow, it’s enough for Scooby to close his mouth shut.

Velma blinks, and it’s apparent she wants to say something else before Shaggy plows ahead hurriedly, “Fred, Daphne, like, I’m sorry if this was uncomfortable for you both. I, like, didn’t want you guys to know I found this because, like, I knew it would make you both feel embarrassed. I hope we can, like, just forget this even happened. I promise to be more careful next time I’m on the computer. Can you, like, forgive me?”

Shaggy stares pointedly at Fred, and it takes Fred a few beats longer than it should to respond.

“Uh, right, of course Shaggy,” Fred stammers. He knows he is blushing because he can feel his face burning, and it feels even more enflamed when Velma stops to study him.

Everyone pauses, holding their breath in anticipation of Daphne’s response, but she is suddenly silent as every eye swivels towards her expectantly. She remains frozen, still entranced by the stain on the carpet.

“Uh, anything you want to add, Daphne?” Velma asks pointedly. “Now would be _a great time to speak your mind_.”

Fred doesn’t miss the way Daphne’s body flinches and stiffens at Velma’s words, but she doesn’t say anything. After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, Velma sighs, exasperated, before she clears her throat and adds, “You know what, Shaggy, it’s really no big deal. Thanks for _being honest_ and _telling us your thoughts_ and _how you really feel_.”

This final sentence is clearly a direct dig at Fred somehow, as Velma spits it out as though her words are bitter, casting glares at both of her friends as they squirm, pinned beneath her accusations. But why does Fred think he notices Velma hold her gaze for a few extra beats towards Daphne, and why does Daphne look uncomfortable, as though she would rather sink into the ground? Surely, the lack of sleep is getting to Fred now, but before he can dwell on anything further, Velma simply says, “Come on, let’s head back to Goose Lake so we can talk to Jordie and Erica and Sid. Fred, I’m going to look into more on this camera while you drive; let’s get moving! We have a mystery to solve.”

Normally it’s Fred who leads his friends, but this time it’s Velma who marches out of the room with an air of unmatched confidence as her friends trail behind her. Fred hesitates to follow his friends, remaining in the middle of the room, his eyes glazed over and the shock fizzing inside his chest as the last few minutes grip his throat in a chokehold. Finally, something catches in his throat – a laugh? A sob? A sigh of relief? Fred isn’t sure what he feels or how he’s even supposed to feel, but all he knows is that things are spiraling out of control, and he has no idea how to make things right with Daphne again. He’s starting to wonder if that’s even possible anymore when Velma’s voice pierces his thoughts as she barks his name shrilly, “FRED!” Startled, he jumps, and he begins to trudge slowly towards the door, walking slowly, like a criminal or a suspect, or a man being sentenced to his own death.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: I don't have much to say aside from I hope it's okay that I've uploaded twice in one weekend, but I really wanted to get this one out there! Also, sorry in advance to my readers for the angst, and sorry in advance to Fred Jones, who probably wishes I would retire from writing fanfiction. Please review if you feel inclined! (sets chapter down and runs away) - iamacliche

**Chapter 11**

If Fred was skeptical that Ghost Lake was haunted before, he has no doubt in his mind that Goose Lake is really and truly haunted now, as he feels himself so haunted, so mortified by the last several days, that there might as well be throngs of actual ghosts and monsters and goblins prowling around the circumference of the lake. The atmosphere is chilly and frigid in the van as the gang drive to meet Jordie, Erica, and Sid, rivaling the crackling tension in every mystery they’ve solved so far, and Fred can’t help but feel a bit ghoulish and suspicious himself as he feels haunted by the ghosts of his past. He is haunted by not only every kiss and every laugh and every exchange with Daphne, but he is also haunted by the words he should have said back at the hotel twenty minutes ago. Would that have been the perfect time to explain what was going on and tell Daphne how he was feeling lately? What if he had no other chance now? And worse yet, what if he – and Scoobydoobydoo – was right, and every romantic interaction with Daphne was just for show, inauthentic, not real? 

Fred attempts to extinguish the thoughts bubbling in his head as he pulls the Mystery Machine to a stop beside the Goose Lake Office. The ride had been glazed in silence, with only the sound of Velma’s keyboard clattering as she researched the camera. Fred felt as though he was walking on a thin layer of ice every time he risked a glance at Daphne, but he was dying to glean what was going on inside her head. Unfortunately for him, she revealed very little, as she remained slouched in the passenger seat, her forehead pressed against the glass window as she watched the trees hurtle past the van. Shaggy and Scooby were uncharacteristically silent, too, and Fred realized with a start that he hadn’t yet thanked Shaggy for throwing the suspicion off of him earlier with the fan art incident. He vowed to pull Shaggy to the side and speak to him privately as soon as he found the opportunity.

As soon as the van is in park, Velma begins to speak as though she hasn’t noticed the taut atmosphere, or rather, maybe she speaks because she does notice the oppressive awkwardness barreling down on everyone’s shoulders.

“All right gang, I’ve figured out the model of this camera, and it appears as though I was correct in guessing that the footage can only be viewed and controlled from a smart phone,” Velma explains. “So that means only the person who put it there can view whatever it’s been recording. Now that we know this, I have some new theories on a potential suspect.”

“And, like, who would that be, Velm?” Shaggy asks.

“I hate to say it, gang, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s one of our new friends; more specifically, Erica, Jordie, or Sid. Who else would have known which exact hotel room we were staying in last night? They’re the only ones who knew where we were staying,” Velma points out.

“Unless someone were to call the front desk and ask about us,” Fred speculates, daring to diffuse the silence. Talking right now is safe enough; they’re focused on the mystery, and no matter what Mystery Incorporated may be enduring in their personal lives, they’ve always been able to suspend it for the sake of an intriguing mystery.

“I’d like to pressure Jordie, Sid, and Erica a little to see how they react to the news about the camera,” Velma says. “We know from past mysteries that it isn’t unusual for the suspect to be someone we’ve known all along, so it can’t hurt. Besides, they’re the only other suspects we have at this point, unless we’re still considering Elma and Officer Bradford.”

“But Erica and Sid and Jordie have all been so sweet to us,” Daphne finally speaks, and it’s the first time she’s uttered anything since the fan art incident; it causes a ball of butterflies to swoop down Fred’s throat and explode against his ribcage, his chest fluttering nervously.

“That may be the case, but we need to be cautious,” Velma explains patiently as the gang climb out of the Mystery Machine. She points ahead and mumbles, “Here they come now, gang!”

Sure enough, Jordie, Erica, and Sid are loping towards the gang, oblivious to the tension sizzling in the air, hopeful smiles plastered on each of their faces. Velma has the camera fisted in the palm of her hand, so none of them notice it when they stroll towards the gang.

“Hey guys!” Erica chirps in her typically cheerful, upbeat manner. “How did interviewing the towns people go this afternoon? Did you gain any insight as to who the monster could be?”

“We didn’t have too much luck there, but we did find one clue,” Fred answers vaguely, purposely omitting that he and Daphne were attacked by the monster; he isn’t sure that he’s ready to address the issue head-on and look it in the face again.

Erica, Jordie, and Sid raise their eyebrows inquisitively at Fred’s ambiguous comment, and in response, Velma holds up the circular camera. Fred squints, watching the three closely for any ripples of recognition that flash across their face, but Jordie, Sid, and Erica exchange confused glances; clearly, none of them realize what Velma has in her possession.

“We did, however, find this in the boys’ hotel room,” Velma says carefully, ensuring her voice is free of any accusation and any emotion. The entire gang lean forward subconsciously, eagerly drinking in and analyzing every twitch and every breath from Jordie, Sid, and Erica, but they betray nothing; it’s apparent they still do not know what Velma is holding in her hand.

Finally, Jordie shrugs and asks, “What is that, Velma?”

“It’s a camera,” Fred responds, feeling a mix of relief and slight disappointment when each of them react with horror; Erica’s face drops and her eyes widen, Jordie’s hand flies to his mouth, and Sid yelps as though he’s been strangled. While Fred is relieved that none of his new friends appear to be the monster, he’s also admittedly a bit crestfallen; now the gang have to go back to the drawing board in terms of suspects. It seems like they just keep moving in circles and bumping into walls with this mystery.

Surprisingly, Velma just comes out and asserts what she has floated around with her friends already: “We think one of our potential suspects is someone closer to us than we initially thought. Who else knew exactly where we were staying last night and would have planted that beforehand?”

When the three of them continue to stare at Velma with blank looks, Daphne clarifies: “In other words, we are starting to suspect that it could be one of you.”

It’s as though a bomb has exploded with the implication; Jordie, Erica, and Sid are bursting with exclamations and surprise, and Fred flies back like shrapnel.

“But why would I have wanted to sabotage my own concert?!”

“Why would I undercut my own father?!”

“And, like, why would _I_ kidnap my own best friend?!”

Fred has to admit that each of them have a valid cover here, so he’s inclined to believe each of them. And, admittedly, it makes things even more difficult that so far, there isn’t a noticeable motive in this mystery. He had hoped to uncover one with the citizens of Goose Lake, but no one exhibited bitterness towards the concert like the people who lived in Goose Lake did in the documentary filmed fifty years ago.

Erica shrugs her shoulders and offers up a smile. “Honestly, if you guys are considering all of us, I think it’s okay,” she admits softly. “You guys have to do your job; if there’s something anyone is hiding, then I hope it comes out. As for me, I know I have nothing to worry about!”

Fred is once again touched by Erica’s maturity and sweet, relaxed nature, but then she pins him in a look that lasts about three seconds too long, and he’s reminded that she’s been studying him since he cringed at the Fraphne nickname earlier; he had hoped she had forgotten all about that, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Erica is right,” Jordie agrees, nodding his head. “All that matters is that this show happens and it’s safe for our fans.”

“Yeah, and like, our hands are totally clean, so we have no reason to worry,” Sid agrees. Again, Fred feels a twinge of disappointment and relief; surely, they wouldn’t be acting this laid-back and worry-free if one or all of them were somehow involved in the mystery.

“Well, we’ve only got two days left, and I think you all are doing a great job so far,” Jordie adds. “What do you think will be your next step in solving this mystery?”

“I suppose we could always set a trap,” Fred suggests carefully, and already he feels a flare of excitement rise within him; no matter how many times he and his friends solve a mystery, this part is always his absolute favorite. He loved the thrill of building a complex (or even simple) trap; he loved the cat and mouse chase that lured the suspect into his trap; he loved seeing the “monster” encased in the newest net Fred had constructed for the mystery. Sometimes, (which he was admittedly embarrassed to admit) Fred even had dreams about making traps when he slept at night; his knowledge on nets and crafting traps was extensive, and it made him feel as though he was a worthy member of Mystery Incorporated, as though his contributions had tangible worth.

“I suppose that would be a good idea,” Velma muses. “At this point, we don’t have too many other leads, so it can’t hurt.”

“I think that’s a wonderful plan!” Jordie beams, clapping excitedly. “And then if your trap works, we won’t even have to worry about the monster crashing our concert, and this mystery will finally be over!”

“That’s like, a groovy idea, guys, but first, do ya think we could stop and grab a bite to eat first?” Shaggy whines, clutching his stomach as though the hunger is literally eating away at him. “Scoob and I are, like, starved.”

“Reah reah!” Scooby barks, grasping at his chest equally as dramatically as Shaggy; he even manages to shrink in his stomach as though he’s malnourished for some extra attention.

“I think we all deserve a break,” Jordie smiles, amused by Shaggy and Scooby. “Maybe we could order some pizza for dinner before you kids plan how you’ll go about trapping the monster?”

“PIZZA!” Shaggy and Scooby screech with delight; their tongues practically roll out of their mouths and their eyes are wide as saucers.

“That would be so kind of you, Jordie,” Velma says gratefully. “And then after that, we’ll get right back to work and catch this Goose Lake Monster!”

“Well, I guess it’s been decided then!” Jordie exclaims. “Erica, do you mind placing the order and picking it all up once it’s ready?”

“Erica, I can pick it up if you, like, wanna order it all!” Sid offers. “I know you mentioned that you, like, had some stuff to work on for the concert still, so you can stay behind here and get it done!”

“That would be great, Sid, thank you!” Erica smiles gratefully.

Everyone smiles politely and waves before they all drift away in their own separate directions; Jordie and Sid move towards the stage to go over some last minute details on the show, Erica moves somewhere quiet to call in the pizza order, and the gang stand awkwardly, shifting around nervously until Daphne asks if she can speak to Velma in private. Fred feels his heart literally clench in his chest before he realizes this is the perfect moment to speak with Shaggy about earlier, too.

“That’s fine, I actually need to ask Shaggy something,” Fred says hastily, hoping that his cheeks aren’t tinge with pink, signaling the embarrassment washing over him once again. Daphne smiles a thin tight line in Fred’s direction before she scampers off with Velma towards the Goose Lake office. As soon as the girls are out of earshot, Fred whirls towards Shaggy and feels himself unspool like a ball of yarn.

Shaggy squeals, “Like, Fred, what the hell man?!” at the same exact moment that Fred moans, “Shaggy, Scooby everything is such a mess!” Fred is gushing with exhaustion and hurt and confusion and frustration, every emotion popping and crackling like sparks inside his chest.

“Like, dude, maybe everything wouldn’t be such a mess if you had just told me what you were lookin’ at last night!” Shaggy bellows, but his voice is already softer, kinder, as he sees Fred doubled over with panic.

“I know, and I’m so sorry, Shaggy,” Fred cries. “Trust me, I know that now. And seriously, thank you for taking the fall for me back there earlier. I owe ya one now! I still can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Ah, gee, well, it’s like, no big deal buddy!” Shaggy waves his hand away at Fred’s apology as though it’s nothing, and his anger has already melted significantly at the sight of a disheveled Fred. “I figured out pretty quickly that, like, that was what you were lookin’ at online last night, and I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Daphne. But like, really pal, that’s all water under the bridge now, so level with me here now; like, seriously, what is goin’ on? You’ve been actin’ fishy since we got back from splittin’ up earlier, and I, like, don’t get it!”

“Ri still ron’t runderstand the ran art,” Scooby whimpers, causing Fred’s cheeks to burn once again.

“Don’t worry Scoob, I’ll, like, I’ll explain it later, old buddy,” Shaggy whispers.

“Shaggy, everything is such a mess,” Fred exhales. “Last night I looked up the ‘Fraphne’ nickname online because that’s all I’ve been hearing about since we got here yesterday, and I wasn’t expecting to find what I saw on some of those forums. I knew that we had fans, er, or shippers or whatever, but I didn’t realize just how crazy and obsessed they were about seeing me and Daphne together!”

“Like, gee, no kidding,” Shaggy chortles as he recalls the fan art the gang had stumbled upon earlier.

“Anyway,” Fred ignores Shaggy’s interjection. “What was even worse than some of the content were some of the comments people left on the art. One person wrote that they think the kiss Daphne and I had last week on _Talent Star_ was all for show, and that we’ll never take our relationship further than that, and now it’s all I can think about.”

“But like, Fred, that’s why we made a pact not to go online and search what people are writin’ about us a while ago!” Shaggy reminds his friend. “We like, knew people would be sayin’ things that would bother us, so we decided not to even bother lookin’, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s easier said than done,” Fred laments. “I mean, trust me, I guess I wish I had listened to our own advice, because now I can’t stop thinking about that comment when I’m around Daphne. But to make matters even worse yet was what happened when Daphne and I split up earlier. You see, Daphne wasn’t being one hundred percent honest when she told you we dressed up to hide from the monster; we did do that, but she insisted that we hide our faces by pretending to – well – uh,” Fred was suddenly flustered, his voice wobbling as crimson stained his cheeks when the memory rushed through him again, and Shaggy and Scooby’s mouths gaped open as they waited for their friend to finish speaking.

“Well, she told me we could hide from the monster by pretending to make-out,” Fred finally finishes in one quick breath, as though he may reconsider saying it all together if he doesn’t push it out now. “But she gave me a real kiss, another honest to God, actual kiss like last week’s, but only now she’s acting weird and awkward around me, and we haven’t discussed it again, just like the _Talent Star_ kiss. I’m starting to think more and more that the fan who wrote that comment is right, and that everything’s been just for show, and it’s been really stressing me out.”

“It’s stressing me out even more because before this second kiss, Daphne and I were already feeling awkward around each other for the last week because of our _Talent Star_ kiss, which we never acknowledged,” Fred continues. “But now that there’s this second kiss, it just makes things even more messy. And it’s like the ‘fakeout-makeout’ flipped some sort of switch in Daphne, and she’s acting even weirder around me than before, and I’m not sure if I can take much more of it. Plus, to top it all off, now she probably thinks I’m some weird pervert who was pouring over fan art of ourselves all night!”

“Let’s not, like, rush into anything here,” Shaggy says reassuringly, patting Fred comfortingly on the shoulder. “As of now, we have no reason to believe she doesn’t, like, believe it was actually me, and if it makes ya feel better, I’ll like, take that to the grave, Fredster. She doesn’t have to know it was you unless you, like, tell her.”

Fred’s heart tugs, and he’s once again blown away by the selflessness of his friend.

“And as for your situation with Daphne,” Shaggy continues, and just her name alone brings heat to Fred’s face. “Like, dontcha think it’s really possible she has feelings for you, too? I mean, I get how you’re nervous and worried and stuff, but like, dude, she’s kissed you _twice_ now. Do you think that was, like, an accident?! I really don’t think that someone who doesn’t have feelings for you wouldn’t have, like, kissed you _two times_ by now!”

Fred pauses, considering Shaggy’s words. Admittedly, Fred had that same exact thought and that same exact hope, but then why hadn’t anything blossomed officially between the two of them by now if that were the case? When Fred vocalizes this question, Shaggy shrugs and says simply, “Well dude, like, Scoob and I have been sayin’ it all along.”

Shaggy and Scooby grin at each other slyly before they chorus, “How many times do we have to say it?! JUST TALK TO HER ALREADY!”

“I mean, really, you like, won’t know how she feels until you actually speak with her,” Shaggy points out. “And besides, like, how is it fair to her to guess what’s on your mind, too? She could be, like, thinkin’ the same things you’re thinkin’ right now! It sounds like she’s just scared.”

Fred shakes his head incredulously, hopeful but still dubious of what Shaggy is saying, even though it does admittedly make perfect sense. “But Shaggy, I’m seriously afraid,” Fred admits. “What if I finally tell Daph how I feel, and she laughs at me, or worse yet, she’s repulsed and she acts awkward around me after that and it ruins our friendship? If that’s the case, then Mystery Incorporated will dissolve, too, and I don’t think I could even handle that if that happened.”

“Like, dude, look around!” Shaggy spreads his arms apart and waves his hands with a dramatic flourish, his gesture matching his words. “Things are, like, already really confusing with you guys, and I really think that if you wait any longer, it’ll like, put a strain on your friendship even more. Honestly, Fred, I think it’ll just make things worse if you, like, continue to hide it from her. I mean, what good is it doin’ to keep all of this bottled up and, like, hidden from her? And how is it, like, makin’ things any easier on Mystery Incorporated right now? We all feel, like, super awkward around you both right now! It, like, can’t get any worse.”

Fred feels a pang of regret, and suddenly he wishes he had spoken to Daphne sooner; maybe if he had, this could have all been avoided. But that possibility means there is a chance Shaggy is right and that Daphne does reciprocate her feelings for Fred, and that’s not something he’s sure he wants to invest and guarantee in quite yet in case he’s miscalculated horribly. He knows he has to try, though; after all, Shaggy certainly has several valid points. As daunting as it may be to talk to Daphne, what good is it doing to ignore each other and sashay around everything that’s happened between them? And Daphne did initiate the kiss the second time, even if it was a scheme to hide from the monster…

“Okay, I’m going to do it! I’m going to talk to Daphne about how I feel,” Fred asserts, eliciting a cheer from Shaggy and Scooby, which draws an inquisitive look from Sid and Jordie, who swivel their heads briefly towards the three friends from where they are standing on stage.

“Is it possible to, like, be proud of someone who’s your own age? Because I’m, like, so proud of you, Fredster!” Shaggy beams, causing Fred to laugh appreciatively; it’s a nice distraction from the daunting task ahead of him. Despite the fact that Fred has chased monsters and people in masks and entered haunted houses, he has never been more frightened than he is now, in these moments before he approaches Daphne and confesses how he’s been feeling for the last several years.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shag, because I’ve never been more nervous in my life!” Fred laughs anxiously. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m doing it; I’m going to talk to Daphne and see how she feels about me!” It’s bizarre for Fred to acknowledge that him and Daphne officially getting together is a real, tangible possibility after all these years of dreaming about her and thinking of excuses to hold her and imagining reasons to grasp her hand during a mystery; if all goes well, all the pretenses can finally fall away. Just imagining it already makes Fred feel like the happiest, giddiest person in the world.

“Ru can ro it, Reddy!” Scooby cheers helpfully.

“I’m, like, just glad we can finally stop yelling at you to just talk to her now,” Shaggy jokes sheepishly, punching Fred affectionately in the arm.

“I don’t blame you, Shag,” Fred grins, before he inhales deeply and repeats, “Okay, here I go; I’m going to talk to Daphne now!” Fred exchanges high-fives and encouraging words from Shaggy and Scooby before he begins to walk towards the side of the Goose Lake Office, where he had last seen Daphne slip away with Velma. He still feels wobbly, uncertain, like a newborn giraffe learning how to walk on his legs, but the support from his friends makes Fred feel more grounded and secure as he approaches Daphne.

When Fred spots Daphne on the bench flanking the Goose Lake office, slumped forward as she speaks with Velma, he feels his stomach stage a revolt. Even though Daphne’s forehead is creased and her posture indicates distress, she somehow looks even more beautiful than Fred has ever seen her, and he feels an invisible hand grip his heart in a death lock. He’s tempted to run up to the bench and sweep her into his arms and kiss her like he’s never been kissed before. All he wants is to wrap his arms around her and tug her close, with no charade or act or pretense, to hold her simply because he loves her. Fred busies himself with possible scenarios of how he’ll start the conversation as he approaches the bench, each situation more cringe-worthy and yet sincere than the last.

 _Hi, remember when we kissed last week on_ Talent Star _? Well, I really liked that a lot, and I kind of want to keep kissing you for the rest of my life, like until the day I die. Does that sound good to you?_

_So, you know how I use every damn excuse to hold you during a mystery? It turns out I’m not doing it only to protect you, but because I’m also stealing every excuse just to touch you._

_You know how Mel Richmond told us we were a cute couple last week in Chicago? Well, it turns out, I happen to agree with him; we make a_ very _cute couple._

 _You. Me. Back seat of the Mystery Machine, now_.

Fred’s so stuck in his own thoughts as they tumble around inside his mind like a centrifuge that he doesn’t even realize he’s almost there now; he is probably about three feet away from Daphne and Velma, who are sitting with their backs facing him and don’t realize that he’s approaching now. He opens his mouth, ready to call out Daphne’s name, when he hears a gut-wrenching sob and instantly realizes that it’s Daphne, which causes him to stop dead in his tracks.

“Daph,” Velma says soothingly. “Why didn’t you just tell me immediately about what happened while we were split up earlier? I could sense that something was going on between you two, but I never guessed it was a second kiss! Wow!”

Fred shudders as Velma’s words slither down his spine, and all of his bravado evaporates in an instant. He briefly considers turning and running the other way; he feels as though he is eavesdropping in on a conversation to which he is not privy. It’s obvious Daphne has just filled Velma in on the kiss she initiated during the monster’s rampage, and something about it is obviously making her emotional, but what is it exactly? Just when Fred is about to sprint in the other direction, something pulls him towards the girls like a magnetic force, and he drops silently and stealthily behind a bush, concealing himself so he can listen undetected. He tries to ignore the pangs of guilt beating against his chest as he leans forward, eagerly drinking in every word.

“It’s just so complicated, Velm, every last part of it!” Daphne erupts, and Fred can tell that she is still sobbing based on the sniffling and hiccupping he hears; he parts the bushes as silently as possible, noting how Velma rubs Daphne’s back in an effort to reassure her.

As Fred watches, he feels his heart beat accelerate faster and faster, and he’s certain it’s so deafening that Velma and Daphne are going to turn around and catch him in the act. He’s breathless, gasping for air, as though he’s just run a marathon, even though he has no reason to be this anxious. But there’s something about the way Daphne is behaving and speaking that simultaneously makes him want to run and hide and stay and listen, and he’s not sure if he is ready for whatever she is about to say.

“What’s got you so upset, Daphne?” Velma asks softly; it’s evident she is just as concerned for Daphne as Shaggy was for Fred earlier, and as much as it hurts Fred to see Daphne so upset, part of him is hopeful that so far the parallels exist because they’re having a conversation that is similar to the one Fred had with Shaggy just a few moments ago. “Try to help me understand what has you feeling this way.”

Daphne pauses to collect herself before she finally murmurs, “It’s all my fault, Velma.”

Fred is leaning in closer and closer now so as not to miss a single syllable. His blood is rushing to his ears and he can feel the perspiration dotting his forehead, and he should probably close his mouth so his breathing isn’t so loud, but he feels as though he is watching the climax of a play, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfurling before him.

“How is this your fault?” Velma echoes, genuinely confused. 

Another pause, and this time when Daphne speaks, Fred feels his heart plummeting and his ears ringing, and he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself for leaning over and vomiting into the grass.

“Because he’s misinterpreting things, Velm,” Daphne admits softly. “I’m pretty sure he keeps misunderstanding things, and it’s all my fault.”

Fred stumbles back, reeling as though he’s been punched in the face, and honestly, he might as well have been after hearing this. _Misinterpreting things. I’ve been misunderstanding things. Oh, God, oh my God, this isn’t happening, this can’t be happening…_

“How do you know he’s misunderstanding?” Velma prompts gently.

“I just know it!” Daphne wails, causing Fred to flinch again, the pain in her voice rippling through his chest. “Earlier today, when I kissed him again and I pulled away, I could see it written all over his face. I’ve been sending him mixed signals all week by not talking to him about either of our kisses and avoiding the subject every time one of us even touches on it. Plus, now that I’ve seen that fan art and noticed how embarrassed Fred was when Shaggy tried to claim it was him who found it, I realize that he definitely feels differently than I do about us being a couple. I’ve made a mess of things, and I’ve jeopardized our friendship, too. I mean, Fred was so ashamed that he didn’t even want to claim seeing that fan art. How is that supposed to make me feel, Velma?!”

Fred is rasping for breath now like a fish flopping around on land, and he’s working on trying to ball his hands into a fist and making sure his face doesn’t collapse into tears; even though he knows no one is watching, the ache in his chest is so heavy that he’s sure he would betray his hiding place with a sharp scream that matched the pitch of his howling heart. When he was in high school, Fred had a creative writing teacher who would sneer whenever a student wrote that their character’s heart was breaking. “That isn’t even physically or literally possible,” the teacher reprimanded. “Don’t ever write that, ever again.”

But the thing about broken hearts is that it’s more than a cliché; Fred knows it feels very, very real. There is a physical, painful strain in his chest, in the cavity where his heart shudders and bucks against his ribcage, and he’s certain he can imagine his heart shattering like glass, splintering into thousands of pieces. And it isn’t only his heart; it feels as though his entire body is about to crumble right there in the bushes.

Daphne and Velma continue to speak, oblivious to Fred and his inner turmoil as he resumes listening to their conversation.

“Well, Shaggy did say he was the one who found that fan art,” Velma reminds Daphne. “So we don’t know for sure that it was even Fred.”

“And I don’t believe it for a second!” Daphne snaps assertively. “Come on, Velm, you saw how Fred was acting; can’t you just admit that Shaggy took the fall for Fred? I’m so mortified Fred even saw that!”

Fred isn’t sure what’s worse; the fact that Daphne and Velma never once bought into Shaggy’s lie, or the fact that Daphne is clearly confessing to Velma that she knows how Fred feels about her and she doesn’t return those same emotions. It is all of a sudden so very obvious to Fred: why Daphne never initiated another conversation after their _Talent Star_ kiss, why Daphne rejected every person’s claim that they “make a cute couple,” why she didn’t seem interested in discussing their second kiss, and now, most recently, why she’s so ashamed that Fred stumbled upon all that fan art. Fred’s feelings for her must have been more obvious and more exposed than he had initially thought; Daphne had just made it clear based on her comment about how “it was written all over her face” after their kiss earlier. And, just like the rest of his friends, she was smart and a detective, so she had quickly discovered his feelings for her and had baulked, hoping to avoid it all together. Evidently, the fan art was the last straw, and even though Shaggy had claimed it was his Google search, Fred’s actions had apparently made it obvious he had searched the Fraphne nickname because of his feelings for her, and apparently it was something Daphne couldn’t seem to get past.

Fred wishes he could kick himself; he feels like such a fool. He can’t even believe he was just about to tell Daphne how he felt about her after all these years. It’s a good thing he had remained concealed in the bushes; he would have embarrassed the hell out of himself had he actually spoken with her and confessed everything.

Fred considers pulling his limp body off the ground and crawling away to lick his wounds when he hears Velma retort, “Daphne, I know you said you feel as though you’ve ruined things, but you need to talk to Fred and be honest about how you feel. I keep telling you this, but seriously, just talk to him about it already. Even if you’re terrified, you at least owe him that much.”

There’s silence for a few long, excruciating seconds, and Fred strains to lean forward and listen to Daphne, who finally whispers, “Yeah, Velm. I guess you’re right. I just hope our friendship survives this. I don’t think I could handle losing him as a friend and splitting up Mystery Incorporated.”

Velma says something in response, but Fred has already hauled himself off the ground and is propelling himself blindly back towards the Mystery Machine, where he left Shaggy and Scooby eagerly waiting to hear about how it went for him; he can’t believe he had initially envisioned this to have only a positive, successful outcome for him. Fred’s vision is blurred as the tears flow freely down his cheeks now, and he picks up his pace, hoping that the girls don’t spot him at the last second as he retreats like a soldier wounded in war. He struggles to come to grips with what’s just transpired as his ears continue ringing, and Daphne’s voice is swirling around in his head. _“I just hope our friendship survives this. I don’t think I could handle losing him as a friend and splitting up Mystery Incorporated.”_ So it sounds as though Daphne intended on finding Fred relatively soon so she could break the news that she didn’t love him back. He tried to find a sliver of solace in the fact that she at least respected their friendship enough to vocalize her fear of tarnishing it beyond repair with the bad news, but right now, Fred was struggling to comprehend anything, even the simplest of sensations: the wind kissing his cheek, the sunshine, which normally felt bright and cheerful but now felt abrasive and blinding, the tuffs of dandelions that had no business looking so cheerful and vibrant with their buttercup colored heads. Well, shame on Fred for being so hopeful and so optimistic about all of this. This was exactly what he had kept telling Shaggy and Scooby; there was always that chance that Daphne was not going to feel the same way about Fred, and even Fred himself had not allowed himself to fully admit this reality. What was he supposed to do now? He could never show his face around Daphne ever again. Maybe he would move to Mexico or join the Witness Protection Program and change his name, or –

“Fred,” Erica’s voice cuts through his stream of consciousness, and he spins on his heel, coming face-to-face with a worried Erica, her forehead furrowed as she runs her hands through her electric blue hair anxiously. “Fred, is everything okay? You don’t look so well.”

Fred is tempted to laugh sinisterly; is he okay? Is he _okay_?! How does he even answer that question right now??

“Oh, I’m peachy,” he manages to choke out, flinching at how pathetic his voice sounds. _Come on Fred, keep it together here. It isn’t Erica’s fault Daphne doesn’t have feelings for you_.

Erica squints her eyebrows incredulously.

“Listen, Fred, I’ve been really worried about you, especially as it pertains to Daphne, and I’ve been meaning to talk with you,” Erica presses on gently as Fred steels himself, but he’s sure that his facial expressions betray him when Erica continues even more softly, “Fred, is something wrong with you and Daphne? I saw how you flinched when I said the Fraphne nickname during practice earlier, and I’ve also noticed how you two seem distant ever since you’ve arrived here. I guess I just expected _Talent Star_ ’ _s_ favorite couple to be more, I don’t know, affectionate and happy, because that was how you always looked to me when I watched you on TV. What’s going on, Fred? You can talk to me; I really care about you both.”

Fred opens his mouth to reply, and for some reason, instead a sarcastic guffaw escapes, causing Erica to widen her eyes to the size of golf balls.

“Erica,” Fred says sharply, and he realizes he’s being too harsh towards her, but he’s tired of the Fraphne talk. He’s tired of having their “ship” name thrown up in his face while Daphne obviously doesn’t feel the same way; he’s tired of seeing what he’s lost when he never even truly had it, and he’s tired of the reminder of what could have been and never will happen. He’s tired of it, of all of it, and he needs to convey to Erica just how much damage she is going to cause by continuously bringing up that nickname; even though Daphne plans to dash his hopes relatively soon, that doesn’t mean he can’t hope to at least remain friends with her, and in order for that to happen, he needs to make Erica stop embarrassing Daphne with that nickname.

“Erica,” Fred tries again, his voice crackling and fragile. He coughs to clear his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice is much harsher than he intended for it to sound, but at this point, he’s beyond caring. “Erica, I know you mean well, but you seriously have to stop bringing up that nickname whenever you see us. Daphne and I were never a couple, and we never will be.”

Erica recoils as though Fred has struck her, and he immediately regrets the serrated, jagged edge in his voice.

“But…but…you guys kissed on _Talent Star_ ,” Erica stutters, as though that should mean something significant. “And you guys just seemed so happy together, so I thought – “

“Yeah, well, you were wrong,” Fred snaps back, loathing himself for this level of rage he didn’t even know existed. “Daphne and I are just friends, and we’ll only ever be friends, and that’s it.”

Erica looks as startled as though she has seen a ghost, and Fred swears he hears a sharp intake of breath coming from behind his shoulder, but when he turns around, no one is there; now he really knows the lack of sleep is eating away at his senses.

“So, let me get this straight; that kiss meant _nothing_? It was all for _show?_ ” Erica prods, the inflection in her voice indicative of her disappointment.

There’s a few seconds of silence, and Fred feels the tears strangle his throat as he manages to choke out, “Yup, it was nothing. All of it was just for show.” This admission makes him feel as though a part of him has died, as though there is some fundamental part of him that will remain behind as he goes on living his life. He tries to cross his arms and breathe deeply through his nose, pulling the air through his nostrils, but that doesn’t stop the pressure mounting behind his eyes or the way his voice sounds strained and high-pitched.

“Now seriously, Erica, I want you to stop bringing up the Fraphne nickname, because it really isn’t ever happening,” Fred adds, trying to temper his anger a bit; he knows he shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on Erica, but she’s part of the problem as to why Daphne is acting so nervous around Fred. Maybe they could have pretended none of this had happened, and then there wouldn’t have been the need for Daphne to break the news to Fred and let him down gently. Maybe then their friendship wouldn’t be in jeopardy, and maybe then the very fabric of Mystery Incorporated wouldn’t have been torn.

For some reason Erica is visibly having a difficult time processing all of this; her own eyes are swimming with unshed tears that threaten to spill over her long eyelashes, and the guilt gnaws away at Fred for being the one to break the bad news to her. He knew she was a dedicated fan ever since the gang had arrived, and he should have known she could potentially feel as disappointed as he did, which was both aggravating and endearing to Fred. Why did Erica feel so committed to a relationship that was obviously never going to mature into a full-fledged, romantic relationship? But he couldn’t even blame Erica; that would make him a hypocrite since he had hoped for the same thing until Daphne had dashed those dreams just a few minutes ago.

“So what, did the kiss mean nothing to you?” Erica demands, her voice sharper and almost accusatory now. Fred was beginning to feel desperate; what could he say to make Erica understand that their relationship was a fraud, a sham? How did he show her that the critics were right, that the ScoobydoobyDoo user was correct, and that he and Daphne would never act on anything past that kiss, that it was all just for show?

“I guess…I guess we just got caught up in the moment,” Fred’s cheeks are burning, and he knows they’re tomato red, but he isn’t sure if it’s because he’s tired of trying to convince Erica the relationship was nothing, or if it’s because he’s frustrated that he ever thought he had a chance with a girl like Daphne. “I guess…I guess it was a mistake.”

 _A mistake_. The word hovers in the space between Erica and Fred as they stand frozen, rooted to the ground. That was most likely how Daphne would describe their recent interactions, too. After hearing what she had said to Velma earlier, there was no doubt in Fred’s mind. But then why did it feel as though he had just told the biggest lie in the world?

Fred distinctly hears a sharp gasp and a strangled noise that almost sounds like an animal that is in pain; Erica must hear it, too, because they both turn around turn and glance behind their shoulders, but there aren’t any animals around, and there aren’t even any other people nearby aside from Jordie, who is setting up the stage as he awaits Sid’s return with the pizza order.

Fred exhales; he’s exhausted, and he feels as though his insides have been gutted and removed from his body, his organs turned inside out for the world to see and probe and analyze. He feels naked, raw, vulnerable; he can’t remember the last time he’s been so emotionally and physically depleted, and he wonders if he’ll feel this way for a long, long time.

Erica finally releases a shaky breath she has been holding and murmurs, “Fred, I – I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel uncomfortable since you got here. It’s just that I was such a huge fan of you both on _Talent Star_ , and I always thought you were legitimate couple. It looked to me as though you guys had actual chemistry and had actual feelings for each other.”

Fred considers admitting to Erica what’s been going on along, since he knows she means well and she’s been nothing but supportive. Besides, everyone is going to find out sooner or later that he’s a lovesick fool for Daphne when she rejects him and breaks his heart all over again.

“Actually, Erica, you weren’t _totally_ wrong,” Fred finally admits; it feels as though a huge boulder has been rolled off of his chest. “The truth is that I did – do – have feelings for Daphne. Like, actual, intense feelings. But I literally just heard her talking to Velma, and she basically admitted she doesn’t feel the same way about me. So I’m expecting Daphne to come up any second now and break the news to me. I’m sorry if I was so harsh towards you; I know you mean well, and I could tell you’ve been meaning to talk to me for a while now, so I should have just been transparent about how delicate things were between her and me.”

Erica looks aghast, as though she’s seeing the Goose Lake Monster face-to-face again.

“What?!” Erica shrills, the surprise elevating her voice a few octaves. “I don’t understand! What exactly did you hear Daphne say?!”

“She said I was misinterpreting things and that I misunderstood all that’s happened between us,” Fred tries to remain calm as he speaks, but he can tell his words are steeped in bitterness, which reflects how he feels inside, as though something is rotting and decomposing inside of him. “So she obviously figured out that I have feelings for her, and she’s upset that I misunderstood the _Talent Star_ kiss to mean that she’s interested, too, when in fact she really isn’t. I heard Velma tell her that Daph needs to tell me the truth, but Daphne said she was worried that it would ruin our friendship. I walked away after that because I couldn’t handle listening anymore.”

Erica is listening intensely, which is evident from the serious expression on her face, but as Fred speaks, something indecipherable glazes over her.

“Fred,” Erica says slowly. “I’ll be the first to say that it definitely doesn’t sound promising, especially if I’m you and I’m already worried and anxious about what’s on Daphne’s mind. But I gotta be honest, here; what if you just tried talking to her directly and confirm that what you heard was true? What if there’s a chance you’re wrong?”

Fred instantly regrets informing Erica; how does she have the audacity to question what Fred’s heard?! Is she not listening to what Fred is saying?!

“Look, Erica,” Fred tries to remain patient and level-headed, but he’s increasingly irritated with Erica’s inability to accept the fact that “Fraphne” doesn’t really exist. “I don’t know how else to tell you, but – “

“FRED JONES, WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Fred and Erica jump, startled at the sight of Velma, who’s rushing towards them with her eyes aflame and her cheeks burning with anger. Shaggy and Scooby, who have been playing catch several feet away, are drawn towards the commotion, their foreheads furrowed as they stare at Velma.

“Like, what’s goin’ on, everyone?” Shaggy asks as Velma stomps towards Fred, thrusting her pointer finger in his face like a parent reprimanding a child.

“All right Fred, tell me what you’ve done to Daphne!” Velma screeches, her voice shrill.

“What?! Me?! What are you even talking about?!” Fred erupts, disbelieving what’s happening right now; how is it that even though Daphne is the one who broke his heart (unknowingly, but still), Velma somehow has the audacity to be angry with _him_?!

“Well, obviously you did something,” Velma explodes, hurling her words aggressively at Fred. “I just ran into Daphne a minute ago, and she was sobbing and crying uncontrollably. I knew she was on her way to talk to you about something, so when I asked her what was wrong, all she said was that she was quitting Mystery Incorporated as soon as this mystery was wrapped up, and she’s considering dropping out of the concert altogether now.”

It’s as though Velma’s words are as explosive as a bomb, and as the realization billows and ripples over everyone, Fred staggers backwards, his heart and his body aching as though he is literally breaking and crumbling again. Why would Daphne want to quit Mystery Incorporated? Why was she so upset?!

Fred opens his mouth, but he isn’t sure what to even say or how to even defend himself; words are fragmented, half-baked thoughts that tumble haphazardly in his brain. His heart races as though he’s been electrocuted, and he can’t manage to cobble together a single, coherent thought, or even speculate as to what has just happened. Before Fred can even reach out and latch onto a single word in his brain, Sid’s quaking voice wafts towards everyone as he races towards them. He has something raised in his hand, but even when he squints, Fred can’t tell what it is Sid is holding.

Jordie, who was drawn to all the commotion beforehand and was already making his way over towards his daughter and Mystery Incorporated, is now racing towards everyone from the stage. “Sid, Erica, what’s going on?” Jordie asks, doubling over as he attempts to catch his breath.

Sid is brandishing the item high above his head now, as though it’s a trophy or a prize, but his face looks grief-stricken.

“Like, I was just pulling in back in from getting the pizzas, man, and I found this in Erica’s car,” Sid huffs. His cheeks are pale and his eyes are wide, as though he’s just been chased by a ghost, and he is clearly disturbed by whatever it is that he’s found.

“Sid?” Jordie asks, his voice hollow and solemn as fear washes over his face like a tidal wave. Fred’s skin ices over with a nervous sweat as everyone steps closer, examining the item in Sid’s outstretched palm, and when everyone sees the tattered box with a stock photo advertising the same exact camera the gang had found in their hotel room earlier, a collective gasp spears the already tense atmosphere as Jordie swoons and falls forward, the ground rushing up to catch him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The shock of it all takes several minutes to absorb. During that window of time it takes for Sid to grimly ring for Officer Bradford while Erica cries and defends herself, plus the additional ten minutes it takes Bradford to arrive, Fred sits on the ground with his head bent, as though the weight of everything is barreling down on his shoulders as he tries to process the fact that Erica is indeed the person who has been sabotaging the concert this entire time. His friends are similarly solemn; Scooby has been whimpering off and on since Sid revealed the camera, Shaggy is so surprised that he has mentioned food only once or twice, and Velma has been uncharacteristically silent.

But the worst of them all is Jordie, who hasn’t moved nor said a single word since Velma and Shaggy brought him a water bottle once he woke from fainting; in fact, he is still sitting on the grass, in the same exact spot where he crumpled only half an hour ago. His normally clean, immaculate hair is messy, and his clothes, which are usually wrinkle-free and crisp, look as though they haven’t been washed in days. Concerned for his friend, it’s Sid who has numbly taken over and spoken with Officer Bradford on the phone and informed him of what had happened once the intimidating police officer arrived on the scene, and Sid moves slowly and stiffly, as though he is trudging under water. Even Officer Bradford, who usually speaks icily and exudes an overall frosty demeanor, is silent and serious when he clamps the handcuffs around Erica’s thin wrists and guides her towards his car while she begs and pleads with him to release her. As Fred watches Bradford try to reason quietly with Erica, the notion that it’s ironic how Erica blamed Officer Bradford only a day ago jolts Fred like lightning, and for some reason it makes him feel guilty, as though he’s been caught committing a crime. Blearily, he shakes the thought from his head; he isn’t in the habit of feeling a shred of sympathy for the culprits that the gang expose, and even though Erica seems sweet, he has to start processing that she’s the Goose Lake Monster, and that’s the end of it now.

“But I swear, I didn’t do it!” Erica shrieks out for the twentieth time as Officer Bradford efficiently helps her duck into the back of his cop car, the blue and red lights flickering across Goose Lake and highlighting the water. By now, the afternoon has yielded to the evening, and the sun-drenched day has gradually dimmed. Brushstrokes of oranges and pinks swirl in the horizon, and the sky looks shimmery. Normally, the gang might admire such a stunning sunset, but now the vivid scenery feels wrong, almost oppressive, contrasted against this most recent turn of events. 

“For the last time, I swear I’m innocent! I don’t even know how that got in my car!” Erica protests, her shoulders sagging as a sob escapes from her chest. Her eyes are smeared with eyeliner, and when she finally begins to cry openly, a stream of black make-up flows down her cheeks. Even though Fred has just reminded himself that he doesn’t typically feel sympathy for the culprits in their mysteries, for some reason his heart clenches when he looks at Erica. There was something so genuine and authentic about her, and it hadn’t even crossed his mind that she could be wrapped up in this case. Normally the motives in a case are always so loud and clear, but with this, Fred struggles to comprehend how and why she would want to interfere with her own father’s dream concert.

“I think it actually makes perfect sense that it’s you,” Velma challenges Erica grimly. “You’ve been obsessed with all things ‘Fraphne’ since we got here, so the camera doesn’t surprise me considering how you’re such a huge fan. My theory is that you’ve been hoping to record Fred and Daphne’s interactions, along with any other conversations we have as a group while we’ve worked to solve this mystery.”

When Velma mentions the “Fraphne” nickname, it fizzes inside of Fred, bright as a sparkler, before it’s extinguished just as quickly once he remembers that Daphne hates him, although he isn’t exactly sure why at the moment; he supposes that will be the next mystery he will have to untie once things wrap up with Erica. Daphne has been noticeably absent ever since Sid revealed the camera, and no one has mentioned trying to find her since Velma mentioned that she saw Daphne sobbing and running away from everyone, presumably to be alone. Fred had considered seeking Daphne out to ensure she was okay, but he surmised that she didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment based on how venomously Velma said his name earlier; perhaps a little distance was best for now.

“Like, yeah, and I’m sure you thought planting the camera would, like, help you stay ahead of us when we discussed clues and stuff, too!” Shaggy adds, placing his hands on his hips triumphantly; the conclusion of a mystery always caused Shaggy to shine a bit brighter and appear a bit lighter. He and Scooby always relished the final seconds of a scary mystery, looking forward to when it was time to hit the road and find new restaurants as they remained ghost free for a period of time.

Jordie, who has remained silent this entire time, finally releases a long exhale as he laboriously pulls himself off the ground and leans uneasily against Sid; his face is pale, devoid of any color, and his eyes are brimming with unshed tears. The wrinkles in his forehead appear deeper and more prominent than they did just yesterday, and the bags under his eyes look like dark rings; it’s as though Jordie has aged about twenty years in just the last twenty minutes.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you, but what these kids are saying makes a lot of sense,” Jordie laments, his voice fragile as glass. “You have been oddly obsessed with Fred and Daphne ever since they’ve arrived, and we’ve all heard you go on and on about their ‘ship name.’ I still don’t understand why you undercut our own efforts to recreate this show, and I always thought you were equally excited as I was to see this revival, but I guess I have to accept the facts.”

“But Dad,” Erica’s voice cracks as her eyes glaze with fresh tears, and before she can say anything more, Officer Bradford closes the door firmly. He pauses before he turns to face Jordie, and his face is emotionless, taut. Fred steels himself, fully expecting Bradford to spit another unnecessarily sarcastic remark at Jordie about how reckless and stupid it was to move forward with the show; he practically expects Bradford to start singing and gloating about how he was right and everyone else was wrong. But surprisingly, Bradford’s shoulders slouch and his normally powerful baritone voice wobbles slightly as he says simply, “I’m sorry, Jordie – I really am. I know I kept discouraging you from the show because someone could get hurt, but I never expected it to hurt you and your family this much.”

Jordie’s face cracks into a forced smile, and Fred instantly feels guilty for ever assuming the culprit was Officer Bradford. A wave of mutual respect and understanding wash over the two men as Jordie merely nods at Bradford, speechless for the first time since the gang have arrived to Goose Lake.

“I’ll have a permit drawn up to search Erica’s phone for any footage connected to the camera,” Bradford explains, his demeanor once again professional, reverting back to business. “If we find what we need to prove she’s behind all of this, we’ll let you know immediately. In the meantime, my partner and I will hold her and keep her for questioning. I’m going to try and pressure her into telling me that she’s the monster, and hopefully she fills me in on everything so we don’t have to keep you waiting. I’ll keep you folks posted if there is any news.”

“When do you think I could visit her?” Jordie asks timidly, and everyone’s eyebrows hitch upward at the question; even Jordie flinches, surprised, as though he hadn’t anticipated this coming from his own mouth.

“I think you’ll be able to see her fairly soon,” Bradford drawls. “It all depends on how smoothly everything goes from here. Again, I’ll be in touch with any updates.”

Jordie merely nods, too stunned to speak once more, and before Bradford tucks himself into the front seat of the car he glances back at Sid and Jordie, who are holding themselves up like two feeble old men who have endured so much hardship and who have lived for far too long, and he adds, “Needless to say, I would imagine this is the end of your Goose Lake Monster business. You should be fine to proceed with the show now. I’ll have two of my men stationed on the perimeter to be of assistance for any rowdy fans. We’ll reach out to you soon.”

Bradford’s words hang in the air as everyone remains frozen, and he waves once before sliding into the car and pulling away, the car moving stealthily and silently back to the station. As everyone watches Bradford and Erica retreat in the distance, no one says a word, and it’s eerily quiet; it feels similar to those first few moments when the gang enter a haunted house or an abandoned building, and for some reason Fred feels his skin prickle with goosebumps.

Everyone is silent, as though no one wants to be the first person to speak and acknowledge what has happened; maybe then they can all pretend the last half hour never took place. Fred shakes his head groggily once again, trying to banish Erica’s cries and pleas from his mind; for some reason, he feels haunted, even more so than he did when the Goose Lake Monster was actively attacking him and his friends. Finally, Sid exhales slowly, releasing all the tension knotted in his shoulders as he sighs, and asks the question bubbling in everyone’s minds: “So, what’s next, then?”

“I guess,” Fred begins, but his voice sounds unsure, unconfident, “I guess we should plan what to do with the concert…”

“Yeah, like, that peachy Office Bradford guy just gave you guys his blessing,” Shaggy snorts. “I guess there’s, like, nothing stoppin’ us, now!”

“And I guess if Erica was responsible for the camera, then like, the monster won’t be back,” Sid surmises. His words are heavy as lead, and the implication that Erica has been undermining the concert plunges everyone into an stifling silence again until Velma finally asserts:

“I don’t know, gang. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Like, what do you mean?” Shaggy asks, raising an eyebrow as he spins to face Velma.

“It doesn’t really add up to me,” Velma clarifies. “I mean, I’m willing to buy into the idea that Erica may have planted the camera because she’s a super fan, but I’m not sure if there’s a direct correlation with that and the monster. Plus, how do we connect that with the ‘cords’ cloth the monster dropped the other day? I’m not sure how that ties in with Erica.”

“Like, maybe she did it to draw Fred and Daphne and the rest of the gang here for the mystery?” Sid speculates. “It’s, like, totally possible she knew they would respond to the Goose Lake Monster and she took advantage of that to, like, meet them?”

“Well, Bradford did say he would interview Erica and get to the bottom of things, so maybe she’ll explain it all while she’s being questioned,” Fred replies, and for some reason his skin prickles; is it because he’s still frustrated with Velma’s accusatory tone earlier and the fact that his life is now crumbling right before his eyes? Or maybe it’s because this turn of events has him disoriented; usually the mysteries end with him crafting a trap or an elaborate chase scene and a dramatic unmasking, so this conclusion feels strangely anti-climactic.

“True, Bradford did say he would interrogate her,” Velma acknowledges. “But I just don’t feel right having so many unanswered questions right now.”

“I agree with Velma,” Jordie speaks up for the first time in minutes, and his voice sounds frail and weak, as though he is ill. “I know I’m biased because Erica is my daughter, but I know my girl, and I don’t think she is the one behind all of this. Her and I are extremely close, and we have a lot of respect between each other, and I like to think she would have come to me before she would stoop that low.”

“Right,” Velma agrees. “As Daphne would say, call it my women’s intuition, but something doesn’t feel right.”

At the mention of Daphne’s name, Sid wonders aloud, “Hey, like, where is Daphne, anyway? And what are you guys going to do about the show, Fred?”

Fred gulps past the lump that suddenly strangles his throat. It doesn’t feel right of him to answer without Daphne, but given what Velma said just a bit ago, things admittedly don’t look so great for their performance; how are they supposed to sing and play together if she doesn’t even want to be around Fred right now? Fred clears his throat and tries to keep his voice as steady as possible as he responds, “Actually, uh, I know it’s safe to perform now, but, uh, I’m thinking Daphne would probably want me to say that – “

“We are definitely going forward with that show.”

“DAPHNE!” Everyone choruses at once as they turn to face her. Fred’s heart hammers against his ribcage as his eyes sweep over Daphne, who looks beautiful as ever in spite of the pink blotches on her cheeks, presumably caused from crying. There’s a hardness about her that isn’t usually there, and her eyes are dark and flat, devoid of the usual sparkle and light that always dances there. There is a hole inside of Fred’s chest widening as he stares at her, and it aches as though he’s been stabbed; he can’t articulate or even guess what he’s done to make her so upset, especially given that _she_ is the one who (albeit, unknowingly) broke his heart, but he vows then and there to fix it and make everything all right again.

“We are definitely performing in that concert still,” Daphne repeats, her eyes narrowed with determination and a blazing confidence that wasn’t there just a second ago. “But if it isn’t too much trouble, I’m going to ask if it’s all right that we perform as two separate acts; I wouldn’t want Fred to think it’s a _mistake_ if we were to perform together.”

The way Daphne spits _mistake_ out of her mouth, as though it’s a bitter, sharp taste she can’t stand to swallow, then follows it up by lobbing him a venomous glare, causes Fred to stumble backwards, reeling as though a boulder has been shoved against his shoulder. He’s not sure which is worse: the fact that Daphne has essentially requested to break up their act, or the fact that something that sends a chill that splits down Fred’s back at the word _mistake_. Something about it is unnervingly familiar.

“Daphne,” Velma hisses through clenched teeth. “Are you sure that’s a great idea? Are you sure you shouldn’t, I don’t know, _talk to each other about it first like I’ve been saying all along_?”

The phrase “if looks could kill” could almost certainly apply to Daphne then as she shot Velma a withering glare that could cause even the healthiest of plants to wilt.

“Ah, sure Daphne, that’s fine,” Jordie replies to Daphen’s demands. It’s evident that the passion he once had for this show has slowly melted, replaced with a casual indifference towards whatever happens now, and Fred understands it immensely; it’s easy to see how Jordie is distracted with his daughter now in police custody after potentially being exposed as the Goose Lake Monster.

“It’ll probably make more sense to split you into two acts anyway, to be honest.” Jordie adds. “I guess we can advertise you as two separate acts and the fans can feel like they got their money’s worth, which would have been harder with only one act. I suppose I’ll go and make an announcement on our social media pages, but it’ll take me awhile to figure that out; that was Erica’s area of expertise. But I guess it’s true what they say – ‘the show must go on.’”

“Well, I guess the press will, like, eat that up once they hear Fraphne has broken up, huh?” Sid points out gravely.

Fred and Daphne both visibly flinch, and a lead fist balls itself in Fred’s stomach; he wants to point out that in order for a break up to occur, there needed to be a relationship in the first place, but he’s too tired and too drained and, above all else, too upset, every emotion buzzing and knocking around inside of him and flickering against his nerve-endings. In the end, no one responds to this Sid’s remark, and Jordie begins moving slowly towards the Goose Lake offices, his movements jerky and rough, and Sid stares after him, concern burning in his eyes. “I’m, like, going to make sure he’s okay,” Sid apologizes to the gang before he slips away, calling for Jordie to wait up for him as he jogs to catch up to his friend.

That leaves the gang staring and blinking at each other, and the tension is so thick and palpable that Fred expects the air around them will burst into flames. But then Velma’s eyes flicker between Fred and Daphne, and she looks at Shaggy and Scooby and says, “Come on, you two. I think we’ve all been telling these two they need to just talk already, and that time has finally arrived. At the very least, it appears they need some time to discuss their new setlist if they’re intent on performing by themselves now.”

Shaggy and Scooby simply nod and smile at Velma, and Fred can’t help but feel as though the three of them are in on some inside joke to which he and Daphne aren’t privy. He’s about to ask Velma to clarify when she abruptly turns and moves towards the stage with Shaggy and Scooby, who both turn back to Fred and mouth that he should “seriously, just talk to her already!” one final time.

“Yeah,” Fred grunts to himself. “Like that’s going to help me at this point…” How would it help Fred to confess how he feels for Daphne if he already knows the inevitable outcome, which is her denying that she feels the same way and then being forced to endure the inevitable falling-out of their friendship?

As his friends retreat away from him, Fred faces Daphne, intent on finally acknowledging that he can’t run from whatever is about to happen between them any longer; any attempt at deferring this moment is only straining him, and he feels distressed, like the end of a thin, frayed string. He opens his mouth, and he isn’t totally sure of what’s going to come out until he asks in an accusatory tone, “So, you really think splitting up our act is the wisest idea? I guess that means you never wanted to sing with me in the first place when we did _Talent Star_ too then, huh?”

Fred instantly wishes he could kick himself for this scathing remark as he watches his words smack Daphne in the face, her eyes glazing over with more hurt and pain before she shakes her head, as if she can scatter Fred’s words from her mind. By now the sun has completely dipped into the horizon, and the evening August air is steamy, thick with the tension crackling and snapping between the two. The only sound Fred hears for a long few seconds is the pulsing, rattling drone of unidentified bugs that are nestled in the woods nearby, the same kind of bugs that always screech at the end of a stifling summer afternoon, as if to vocalize their displeasure of the sweltering heat from earlier in the day. Somehow, Fred has a moment to fleetingly think to himself that the screaming insects are like an apt metaphor for how Fred has felt for this past week, ever since he and Daphne’s kiss ended _Talent Star_ and stoked this mounting tension between them. 

“Oh please, I don’t know why you’re pinning this on me!” Daphne retorts, and Fred has to fight the impulse to crumple into a heap; this is the very first time he and Daphne have fought, and he feels like an overly inflated balloon, ready to burst at any second. “I only told Jordie we should do that because it’s probably what you wanted; after all, I wouldn’t want you to say it was a _mistake_ for us to sing together again.”

“There’s that word again,” Fred thinks, and the way Daphne has emphasized “mistake” catches Fred off guard, but only momentarily before he recovers, thankfully quick on his feet this time with a less decisive, more cohesive response.

“Why do you keep saying that word?” Fred asks, trying to temper his frustration so he doesn’t continue to stoke this fire building rapidly between them. “I don’t understand why you keep making a point of using that exact word around me. Now, I know I’m not the brightest guy, but I am a detective, and I do notice a pattern when I see one. And I’m not a mind reader, Daph, but Velma told me you were mad, and I haven’t been able to figure it out since she told me. Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind already?!”

The double-meaning of his question gives Fred pause, and he knows the irony of it his question is so fucking obvious that it if it were written down on paper, it would be bolded and highlighted, glaringly obvious to anyone who could read. If Shaggy and Scooby were here, they would surely groan and throw their heads in their hands and beg Fred to finally be the one to tell Daphne what’s on his mind about how he feels for her; he sees the flaw that exists with asking this, and he doesn’t want to be a hypocrite, but he needs to know why Daphne hasn’t been normal around him since they returned, because if it’s this chilly between them now, he can’t imagine how frigid it will be once she finally admits to his sorry ass that she doesn’t have feelings for him.

“You are so dense,” Daphne shakes her head, as though Fred is a toddler who has done something wrong and she is disappointed with him. “Do you really want to know what’s wrong with me?”

“That’s why I’m asking, yeah,” Fred snaps back.

“I HEARD YOU TALKING TO ERICA!” Daphne practically screams, her face a mess of angry red splotches as she throws her hands up in the air in exasperation.

Fred pauses, momentarily thrown again, and blinks. It’s very rare that his mind is completely blank; he is always thinking of traps and mysteries and his friends and food, and, well, Daphne, but this proclamation leaves him speechless and thoughtless. When he doesn’t respond or react, Daphne shifts and responds, her voice a few octaves lower and now suddenly anxious, “I heard you talking with Erica earlier, okay? I know you guys were probably talking in secret, or whatever, but I was coming over to talk to you, and I, uh, I heard what you said to her.”

All at once a million thoughts crash into Fred and he attempts to hone in on one, but they’re all spinning and churning and flashing so quickly that he can’t even focus on a single word. He’s processing several sensations and emotions and reactions all at once: the evening Michigan air, which is still humid and damp, like a wet towel covering his face, Daphne’s rapid breathing, as though she’s just run a marathon, and the dull pain in his head as he attempts to recall the conversation he’s had with Erica, accompanied with the panic that washes over him like a tidal wave when he remembers how he initially denied having feelings for Daphne, only to oscillate and pour his heart out to Erica at the last second.

“W-which part of our conversation did you hear?” Fred asks feebly, his skin icing over with goosebumps in spite of the humid summer night. In that agonizing second between when he asks and Daphne replies, Fred is struck numb with one horrifying thought; the exact moment that Daphne had eavesdropped on his discussion would most likely dictate whatever happened with their relationship for the rest of their lives, for better or worse.

Daphne sighs, bouncing from side to side anxiously, which Fred has noticed is a nervous tick she exudes whenever she’s nervous or scared.

 _Nervous or scared_. Of him? But why?

“I...I heard you tell Erica that our, uh, kiss was a mistake,” Daphne admits begrudgingly, and her face instantly flushes; she looks as though she is going to break down and cry at any second. “And I also heard you tell her that, um, well, that we would never, well, you know…be together. Like that.”

“ _Now seriously, Erica, I want you to stop bringing up the Fraphne nickname, because it really isn’t ever happening.”_

_“I guess…I guess we just got caught up in the moment…I guess…I guess it was a mistake.”_

_“Daphne and I are just friends, and we’ll only ever be friends, and that’s it.”_

_“Yup, it was nothing. All of it was just for show.”_

It’s rattling around inside of his brain now and constricting his throat tighter and tighter now, every damn word he said to Erica. Everything has finally slotted into place neatly in Fred’s mind, the same tidy way a mystery is tied up at the end of the day. It suddenly all makes sense to him now: the sharp, serrated edge to Daphne’s voice, the emphasis on _mistake_ , and above all, the jagged intake of breath he had heard not once, but twice, as he was speaking with Erica. He had attributed the noise to that of an animal, but it was Daphne, and it was because she was reacting to everything Fred was saying about how they would never be together. Daphne had heard what Fred said out of context, and obviously she had run away halfway through the conversation, before she could hear Fred reverse and admit that it was all a lie. It was a misunderstanding.

But if Daphne is upset about this, which clearly, she is, then what does that imply? Because Fred knows what he heard her saying to Velma, unless…

When it finally strikes him, the second realization hits Fred even harder than the first, nearly blowing him to the ground, as though a tidal wave has crashed into him and knocked him off his feet. If Daphne heard Fred speaking out of context, then it’s entirely possible that he caught her conversation at the wrong time, too, and that could mean only one thing.

Something catches in Fred’s throat – a sob? A laugh? The crushing irony that he and Daphne are both pissed at each other after a doubling misunderstanding? He knows he must look like an insane man right now, and judging from Daphne’s furrowed forehead and the fresh tears that collect in her eyes, he knows she’s thinking the same thing. And then he hears Shaggy and Scooby’s voice reverberating in his head, insisting, “How many times do we have to say it?! JUST TALK TO HER ALREADY?!” There’s still fear prickling in his veins, but it’s replaced with this warm, light sensation that’s filtering through his body and filling his fingers and his toes and his ribcage. He knows he shouldn’t be letting his hopes rise like this, but he can’t help it. The past week flashes through his mind: Daphne improvising their tie-breaker song with lyrics to “I love you,” a song that he isn’t so sure she just wrote on the fly for the moment. The kiss they shared on stage, which was warm and light and euphoric. Their tunnel song driving experience, and the look she gave Fred when he pulled over and that subsequent moment when he knew she was the most beautiful person he had ever met. The second kiss. _The second kiss_ , which was more complicated, but just as earth-shattering.

How much of it was real? Some of it? All of it? Fred had feared that none of it was genuine for Daphne and that this whole experience and his feelings for her have been one-sided, but what if that hasn’t been the case at all? What if Shaggy and Scooby were right, and this could have all been avoided by, well, _just talking to her_? Would Fred really be able to rectify all of the damage that had been done if he were to finally talk to Daphne, right here and right now? He’s terrified; he’s never been this terrified, even when chasing monsters and creepy men in masks, but he knows he has to ask her, or he’s going to explode if he remains uncertain for one second longer.

“I-I just need to know,” Fred begins slowly, and when he speaks, the color drains on Daphne’s face. “How much of today, of this past week, was real? Because what happened in town earlier today- we kissed, Daphne. We kissed last week, too, and it actually happened, and I swear I didn’t make it up in my mind.” He whispers the last two sentences, his voice wobbling as he stares at Daphne, who is openly crying.

This is it; this is the moment he’s been waiting for all week, although, truth be told, he’s been waiting for this moment so much longer. Fred has wanted to know how Daphne has felt about him since ten minutes after he first met her, when he spotted her across campus at school and he actually ducked around the corner because he thought she was so beautiful and the thought of actually holding a conversation with her horrified him; he’s wanted to know how she felt about him when she grabbed his hand during a mystery or when she’s burrowed into his chest while they’re hiding from a monster; he’s wanted to know how she felt about him when they penned the lyric, “I can take all the changes knowing you’re there,” and he’s wanted to know how she felt about him as they gazed at each other on stage during _Talent Star_. Fred has been waiting for this moment for so long, and he’s both simultaneously elated and frightened now that this moment has arrived.

Daphne’s mouth is gaping open and her eyes are wide; it’s clear that she wasn’t expecting Fred’s question. He leans forward in anticipation, ready to hear whatever it is she has to say, when she finally, tearfully begins, “Freddy, I have to tell you something. _I like_ – hey wait, what’s that over there?”

Deflated, Fred turns to follow Daphne’s finger, and it’s only then that he notices the mist, crawling towards them from the stage and spreading over the grass as it envelops them, grey and thick. When he realizes that can imply only one thing, his mouth is coated in a sharp, metallic taste.

“But – but that can’t be!” Fred stammers, his eyes wide as his jaw drops. “We caught Erica, so it should have been the end because she’s the Goose Lake Monster!”

“What?!” Daphne blanches, whirling towards Fred. “What do you mean, Erica is the monster?! How is that even possible?”

Fred is temporarily confused until he remembers that Daphne had missed the drama with the camera reveal, but it doesn’t matter now, because clearly he was wrong; they were all wrong. Erica wasn’t the monster; she never was the monster, and now he and Daphne’s moment has been crushingly destroyed, yet again, by another distraction. And worse yet, if they don’t get out of there now, then there may never be another chance for them to have this moment again.

“We have to get out of here!” Fred yelps, reaching for Daphne’s hand, and at the same moment he’s startled by a piercing scream that jars him out of the sweet moment he was having with Daphne and into this new bitter moment with another monster attack. His head swivels around in all directions, trying to find the monster so he can plan an escape route, when he feels Daphne squeeze his hand and shriek, “Oh my God, look out!”

It’s the last thing Fred hears before something heavy smashes into the back of his head, knocking him onto his feet and plummeting him into darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: This chapter may be a bit confusing given the previous chapter's conclusion, but it's actually a flashback because I've always wondered what it would look like when Fred and Daphne wrote the song they sang for the Talent Star competition since it's so damn cute and it does things to my heart. I hope I did this "deleted scene" shot some justice! Also, thanks to my friend Kate for suggesting that they use a generator to write some of the lyrics; that was not my idea. Review if you feel so inclined, and seriously, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed thus far and to everyone who is silently reading this. I'm so overwhelmed by the support and all the views this has accumulated recently. - iamacliche

**Chapter 13**

_“Come on, Fred, focus! How are we ever going to win_ Talent Star _if we don’t even have a song prepared?”_

 _Daphne’s voice sliced into Fred’s reverie, and he shook his head blearily, willing himself to concentrate on the task before them. It was the week before he and Daphne were set to appear on the television show_ Talent Star _for the first time, and they still hadn’t selected a song for their performance. When they had auditioned a few months back, the producer, a man with a shiny bald head and a dirty, yellow-stained mustache (presumably from cigarettes or chewing tobacco) had supplied the music for them, prompting them to sing every range ranging from classic rock to top forty pop. The two had no issue clinching their spot in the show easily; Fred and Daphne could not only sing, but Fred underscored just how valuable they would be when he stepped up and began to strum the acoustic guitar after the musician who worked for the television show received a distressing call from home and had to leave the work early. As soon as the producer saw Fred playing the guitar and supporting Daphne as she sang, he quietly passed them two yellow waivers and invited them to return back to compete when the show started filming in a few months._

_“And my advice to you? Make sure you stand out,” the producer’s charcoal colored eyes narrowed as he spoke. “There will be tons of acts, many of them musical, so they tend to blur together after a while since there’s so many of ‘em. You’ll need to make an impression on the viewers at home and sing something unique if you really want them to vote for you.”_

_Fred and Daphne had been too swept up in the hazy excitement of winning a slot on the show, so they had spent the subsequent weeks celebrating and even squeezing in a few mysteries before they were jolted by the fact that the first week of_ Talent Star _was quickly looming, and they still hadn’t solidified a song selection. That was how they found themselves practicing in Daphne’s bedroom, but Fred found it almost impossible to focus. It was a combination of elements that contributed to his distraction: Daphne’s vibrant bedroom, splashed with tons of purple and immersed in a lavender perfume that made his nose tingle, the immense pressure to find the perfect song in only seven days, and of course, Daphne’s presence, which was like the sun, blindingly bright and vivid, but also warm and comforting. It was rare for the gang to spend their time one-on-one, since so much of their time was devoted to solving mysteries, which left little free time. Now that Fred actually had this sliver of time with Daphne, it was almost as though he didn’t even know what to do with it or how to act around her. His brain was useless; it might as well have been melted grey sludge pooling in his head._

_“That producer guy told us to stand out, so we have to pick the best song,” Daphne was pacing back and forth in the middle of her room, and it reminded Fred of all the times his dad caught him doing that as a kid and jokingly told him, “You know you’ll wear a hole in the middle of the room if you keep doing that, right?” He’s almost tempted to parrot this now, but he bites his tongue at the last second. “Come on Fred, dad jokes, really?” he admonished himself. “I don’t think that’s going to impress Daphne. Try to find something intelligent to say already!”_

_“Well, ah, maybe we should do a classic song everyone knows and loves then, like ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ or, uh, something?” Fred suggested, cringing at his stupid idea. Daphne didn’t even need to reply; he already knew even as the words left his mouth that particular song selection was too predictable and too overdone._

_“We need something that surprises everyone,” Daphne explained. “Something catchy, something that no one would ever expect…so something that isn’t a top forty song or a classic.”_

_“Well, that eliminates a large chunk of music then,” Fred pointed out, which only caused Daphne to groan and flop back on her bed, which was covered in various layers of woolly, lacy violet comforters. Fred sighed, watching her from where he sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, and lamented, “It’s too bad we aren’t creative; I can’t picture something more surprising than using an original song in a talent show competition.”_

_The room was silent for a few moments, and Fred half wondered if Daphne was even paying attention to him before she suddenly squealed, causing him to jump, his heart slamming against his chest._

_“Freddy, you’re a genius!” Daphne shrilled as she bounded from her bed and raced towards her bookcase, where she snatched a college ruled spiral notebook that was so ripped and disheveled, it might as well have been Scooby’s lunch._

_“I am?” Fred asked, crimson staining his cheeks. “But – how? What did I say?”_

_Daphne plopped herself just a few feet in front of him, laughing giddily, and he bit his cheek to stop the smile from spreading across his face, but it was too difficult; she’s so vibrant and animated, as though she’s bottled the sun. Fred feels his adoration for her simmering and popping behind his ribcage like a firework; he always relished seeing her smile, and being the reason for her smile was even more rewarding._

_“You said we should write an original song for_ Talent Star _, and I couldn’t agree more!” Daphne explained, her bubblegum pink lips revealing her straight white teeth as she grinned. “I mean, the producer told us we should be unique if we wanted to stand out, right? What could be more unique than our own song that we’ve written all by ourselves?! It’s brilliant!”_

_Fred thinks about this, his heart jittery. On one hand, Daphne has a point; if they were somehow able to cobble together a song, that would show the audience that they’ve put the time and effort into this show, and it would illustrate just how much they care about winning the competition. But, on the other hand, they only had a week before filming began; how were they supposed to think of a song that was not only catchy, but strong enough to carry them to the final round?_

_“I don’t know, Daphne,” Fred said slowly. “How do we know this would even help us win? Don’t you think the safer option would be to choose a crowd pleaser, something that the live studio audience could sing along with and get into? If we write our own song, it’ll be something that no one will be familiar with beforehand.”_

_“Fred Jones, you obviously haven’t watched_ Glee _before,” Daphne huffed, but it’s clear she isn’t truly angry; her cheeks are still flushed with excitement, and her emerald eyes twinkled mischievously._

 _“_ Glee?” _Fred wrinkled his nose. “What does an old, cheesy sitcom show have to do with this?”_

 _Daphne exhaled in an over exaggerated, dramatic fashion. “Oh Freddy, must I teach you everything in life? In season two of_ Glee _, the New Directions win at sectionals by writing their own original songs; they realized that if they wanted to stand out, it would help to sing something they wrote, and they were right because they go on to win the competition! I think if we do the same thing, it’ll help us win, too.”_

 _“Huh,” Fred scratched his head and squinted his eye, exaggerating his train of thought playfully. “That’s funny, because every time I’ve heard you talk about_ Glee _, you only ever talk about creepy Mr. Schue and how he’s too close with his students; I didn’t think you watched that show for any other reason.”_

_Daphne shot straight up, the laughter bubbling out of her, so unrestrained and natural. She shoved Fred in the shoulder playfully and winked. “Wow, you remember all that, huh? I guess you do pay attention to me after all.”_

_“Of course, I always pay attention to you,” Fred winked back before his senses came crashing into him, nearly bowling him over onto his back; this friendly banter, or flirting, or teasing, or whatever it was, definitely didn’t feel like the type of behavior that “just friends” engaged in. It made him feel electric inside, as though he was carrying a ball of electricity that jolted his heart, causing his cardiovascular system to pump at extra speed._

_“Well, anyway, I think you’re onto something,” Fred acknowledged sheepishly, trying to move forward before his heart barreled out of his chest and constricted his throat, preventing any intelligible speech. “If you want to try and write a song, then I say it’s worth a shot. After all, if it worked on_ Glee _, then I guess it’ll work for us, right?”_

 _“Yeah, it totally worked on_ Glee _!” Daphne beamed for a moment before her smile just as abruptly fell again. “I mean, mostly…”_

_“What do you mean, mostly?” Fred hedged, his voice light. “I thought this was a flawless plan, right?”_

_“Well, ah, it did work on the show, but when the New Directions get to New York for nationals, Finn and Rachel, the main couple on the show, ruin it for everyone by kissing at the end of their song, and the judges hate it,” Daphne’s face is suddenly splashed with red, and she’s wringing her hands and glancing everywhere but at Fred. “But, uh, well – “_

_Fred’s nerves began vibrating and his head began spinning. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this, and without even intending to he suddenly pictured kissing Daphne’s lips; he imagined it would be like sinking into pillows, like walking in the front door after a long day at work, like –_

_“Uh, well, we definitely won’t lose,” Fred finally managed to stammer in response, forcing himself to stop thinking before his thoughts spiraled further out of control. Did he want to kiss Daphne, or was this daydream triggered by her description of the scene from_ Glee _? But of course he wanted to kiss her; who is he trying to fool? He’s wanted to kiss her since the moment he met her. But if it were to happen, their first kiss obviously would never take place in front of a live studio audience (how awkward would that be?!); although, he has to admit that there’s a certain element of romance that he finds endearing in this scenario. It’s too bad it would never happen for them._

_“We aren’t going to lose,” Fred repeated, more confident and more convincingly than he sounded a second ago. “So we better make sure we write a really good song, then. What did you have in mind?”_

_“Oh, I don’t know, I thought you had something in mind?” Daphne countered, her forehead furrowed. “I mean, you’re the one who suggested writing original songs.”_

_“Me?! I was just spit-balling!” Fred threw his hands up in deference. “You’re the one who suggested going forward with it because you saw it on a TV show!”_

_“Yeah, I guess I did say that, huh?” Daphne sighed, deflating more and more by the second. Fred’s heart drops to the ground, and he knows he has to think fast if he wants to keep their spirits up; anytime the gang are feeling disheartened and discouraged during a lull in a mystery, it’s up to him as the leader to step up and raise everyone’s confidence. Even though there was no mystery, this was no different; he couldn’t allow Daphne to plummet into despair before they even got their feet off the ground._

_“Well, that’s okay, we’re in this together, so it doesn’t matter whose idea it was originally because we’ll write this as a team,” Fred stated warmly, and his skin prickled with goosebumps when Daphne smiled hopefully again. “Now, to write our own song, we just have to be creative and think back on what our English teachers taught us in high school. What are some things you remember Mrs. Kennedy telling us when we had that creative writing unit in eleventh grade?”_

_“Ha, real funny, Fred, I can hardly even remember what I had for breakfast this morning,” Daphne sighed, exasperated. “Do you remember anything she taught us?”_

_“Um, I remember she always said, ‘show, don’t tell,’ but I never really figured out what she meant by that,” Fred admitted. He paused for a minute, the silence widening between them until it was like a gulf of water too wide to cross; how were they going to write a song if they didn’t even know where to begin?_

_“Oh, I do remember something now!” Daphne snapped her fingers energetically and began to bounce on her knees. “She gave us a tip and said that if we’re ever stuck, we should write about something we know or love well, like a hobby or a subject in school or something. I actually wrote about my favorite pair of shoes at the time; they were these purple pumps, and – “_

_“Wait, you wrote a short story about_ shoes _?” Fred chuckled, choking back the laughter bubbling in his throat._

 _“It was actually a_ poem _, thank you very much!” Daphne laughed, seeing the humor in her assignment all these years later. “Anyway, my point is, she was right; it felt like the assignment was so much easier to tackle after I decided to write on something I knew and loved. Maybe we could try the same thing and write about something we have a lot of knowledge on, or something we love?”_

_“Sure, that’s not a bad idea!” Fred consented, allowing himself to smile. “Uh, where should we begin? What are some things we know really well?”_

_“Well, we know a lot about mysteries, so maybe we could do a song about solving mysteries?” Daphne suggested._

_“Hmmm, that’s not a bad idea.” Fred considered it; this was a unique idea, and they definitely would stand out since they were almost certainly the only crime-solving detectives in the entire competition, but he wasn’t even sure where to start in terms of writing the actual song. Would they choose to write about one specific mystery, or the general pattern a mystery took on in every single case? Or would they hone in on one specific element of a mystery, such as the rush of white hot adrenaline that coursed through his veins whenever he trapped a monster successfully?_

_“But where would we even begin?” Fred pondered aloud, echoing his concerns to Daphne. “Plus, we’re already known as Mystery Incorporated everywhere we go; do we really want to keep enforcing that as our identity, or should we take advantage of showing a different side of ourselves?”_

_“Yeah, I guess that’s a good point,” Daphne admitted, temporarily crestfallen. “Well, I guess we could think of writing about something else. I mean, there have to be other things in life that we know a lot about and that would make a good song, right?”_

_“Like what?” Fred asks._

_“I don’t know!” Daphne exhaled. “What do you think? What is something you really like that you could write a song on? What do you love the most about the world?”_

_“Uhhh, I love…” Fred was dangerously close to adding the word_ you, _but he caught himself at the last second, his cheeks singed with embarrassment. And then he was distracted by the warmth of Daphne’s eyes as she leaned forward in anticipation, ready to hear his suggestion for a song, and he’s enraptured by the way she gazed at him, her pretty face and her candy coated lips eliciting shivers down his spine._

_“Um, I really love traps,” Fred eventually offers, and for some reason this response made Daphne’s face visibly fall._

_“Well, that kind of goes hand-in-hand with mysteries, and we agreed that we wanted something different,” Daphne replied. “Plus, I’m not sure how many people will really relate to that hobby of your’s, Freddy.”_

_“Hey, it isn’t a hobby!” Fred protested. “_ Traps Illustrated Magazine _would beg to disagree with you too, by the way!”_

_“Jeepers, okay then!” Daphne giggled, and for a dizzying moment Fred thought the only music he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life was the melodious sing-song of her laughter. “Anyway, what I think would work best is a subject that’s relevant; the producer said we should try to stand out to the viewers at home, so maybe if we write a song that almost anyone can relate to, then we’ll get enough votes to win. What do you think, Freddy?”_

_“I think that makes sense,” Fred conceded. “What kind of song do you think would appeal to most people watching the show?”_

_“Well, I guess we should think about top forty songs and what those are about,” Daphne mused. “If they’re popular, it’s for a reason, and it’s obviously because they appeal to a large amount of people.”_

_“That’s a good idea!” Fred exclaimed. “What are most popular songs about though?”_

_“Um,” Daphne hummed, clearly hesitant to speak. “Well, they’re about, uh, love.”_

_Fred felt as though someone had gripped his neck in a chokehold, and he couldn’t help but sputter and cough. He wondered if Daphne could see his face flushed cherry red, but her face was a stark juxtaposition, so calm and cool. Yet when she looked at him there was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, and when their gazes met for a moment Fred flinched, shocked, and it felt as though there was blueish-white electricity dancing between them so powerfully that it could light up the entire room._

_“Oh,” Fred eventually answered cautiously. “That’s right, they are usually about love, aren’t they?”_

_“Have you ever been in love?” Daphne blurted the question out loud so quickly that Fred was sure he misheard her. But then her cheeks tinged pink, and she hastily added, “Oh, um, the reason I asked is because, uh, we can’t write a song if we don’t have any experience with it. I mean, that was the point of trying to think of things we know a lot about in the first place. So, that’s why I was, ah, asking.”_

_Daphne’s question made Fred feel as though someone has aggressively tugged his heart with a rope. His blood pounded in his ears, drowning out any background noises, such as the sigh of her house as the furnace clicked on and the birds chirping outside, oblivious to the tension crackling and sizzling in Daphne’s bedroom. There are so many various ways he can answer her question right now, and he sees each option branch before him like sprawling highways that lead to unknown destinations. Finally, he opens his mouth and decides to settle on a half-truth._

_“Yeah,” Fred admitted softly, his voice barely audible. “Yeah, uh, I have been in love before.”_

_Daphne’s eyes sparkled and an indecipherable emotion glazed her face. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, but she didn’t say anything, so Fred continued._

_“But, uh, I’m not sure that I would be able to write a song based on that alone, especially since I don’t exactly have the experience to back it up. Maybe we should abandon this whole idea and choose a cover song, after all,” Fred stated hurriedly. Now that he’s half-admitted what he had always been terrified to acknowledge aloud, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to proceed and see where this discussion lead; he wished he could grab his words, which still hovered conspicuously in the air, and shove them back in his mouth and swallow them, locking them back in the past._

_“No, we should do this,” Daphne insisted. “I really think it would make the most sense to write a love song; that will catch everyone’s attention, and it’s definitely relatable. And I have an idea.” She stood up slowly and moved towards her bookcase again, this time retrieving a sleek silver laptop with a magenta shell case. When she sat back down again, this time she positioned herself right next to Fred, and her knees accidently brushed against his as she crossed her legs gracefully, shooting sparks through Fred’s limbs. He concentrated on his breathing and attempted to focus as Daphne powered on the computer and pulled up a Google search engine._

_“What are you doing?” He knitted his eyebrows together as he watched her fingers dance across the keyboard, and a few strokes and clicks later, they were staring at a website that boasted a song lyric generator. There was a grey rectangle in the middle of the screen with two empty boxes. The first box read “topic,” and the box directly below it said “lyric,” and the submit option was underneath both of the prompts._

_“An online generator? Why do we need this?” Fred asked._

_“I think it will help us at least get started writing a song,” Daphne explained. “We don’t necessarily have to use anything we don’t like; maybe we can just brainstorm some ideas from this and that will get the ball rolling. This is supposed to give you the first four lines of a song, so I figured we could just try it and see what we get.”_

_“Okay, I’d be willing to try it,” Fred said, but he’s still reeling and panicking over his admission earlier, even if Daphne apparently hadn’t noticed that he was talking about her. He leaned forward and watched as she began typing, and he caught a whiff of her apricot scented shampoo; just sitting beside her was enough to make his brain feel as though it was on fire._

_“Ugh, I don’t think it’s working,” Daphne pouted as the webpage loaded slowly. After a few tedious moments, a lyric finally pinged onto the site:_ “Rain storm over the ocean / sunshine after the rain / clouds rise up from the water / nature’s endless chain.”

_“What? How is that even remotely useful for a song?” Fred laughed, but then he immediately regretted it when he saw Daphne’s shoulders slump forward._

_“Well, let’s write it down and see what it gives us,” Fred suggested with a warm smile. He grabbed Daphne’s notebook and the purple glittery gel pen, copying the lyrics carefully, but he had to admit that he wasn’t sure how this would work out so far, either; it didn’t sound anything like a catchy song so far, let alone a compelling one about romance. But maybe that was okay; maybe he could find a way to build the lyrics so that it segued into a love song. He had no idea how he was supposed to do this, but he knew he had to try._

_“So what, we write a song about the weather? What are we, weather forecasters?” Daphne snorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm._

_Fred’s eyes scanned the four lines in front of them, attempting to weave together some semblance of a song, but he felt like a dog running in circles, chasing its own tail. He reached over to Daphne and gripped the laptop, clicking towards the generator again._

_“What are you doing?” Daphne sniffed, her eyebrows knit together as she stared at him with a question in her eyes._

_“I’m trying to see what happens when we ask the generator for four more lines,” Fred responded. “Maybe it’s something we can use, or maybe it’ll just help point us in the right direction.”_

_The webpage seemed to take hours to refresh a new suggestion, but it was only a matter of minutes before four more lines flashed across the page:_ “The world keeps on spinning / From day to the night / From season to season / From darkness to light.”

_“This is pointless! You were right; maybe we should have just stuck to cover songs after all,” Daphne groaned as Fred dutifully jotted down the next four lines. His spine was beginning to tingle, as though a single ice cube slid down his back, and a thought was stitching itself in his head. Daphne didn’t say anything as she picked up the computer again and began to smash the keyboard impatiently, attempting to retrieve more suggestions, but a new message popped up that requested payment in order to continue using the generator._

_“Jeepers, this idea officially sucked,” Daphne pouted, shoving the laptop onto the ground with frustration. “It’s only free to request eight lines. Now what?”_

_But Fred didn’t hear what Daphne had said because an idea had taken root and bloomed in his head in a matter of seconds. Whether the generator had intended to or not, it had provided their song with a structure, a pattern that he could work with, and he felt that same heart pulsing, blood pumping rush that accompanied every successful attempt at building a trap during the tail end of every mystery._

_“It’s about how things change,” Fred murmured, causing Daphne to narrow her eyes, perplexed._

_“What did you say, Freddy?” Daphne asked. “I’m not sure I understand.”_

_“Our song,” Fred explained. “I think I know where I want this song to go now! Look closely at the lyrics: what is it about?”_

_Daphne fell silent as her eyes danced across the notebook, drinking in the lyrics once more._

_“It’s about the circle of life, I think?” Daphne speculated. “And, uh, how things change and how time passes? But if we’re writing a love song, how would that make any sense? So far it sounds more sad than it does happy? Are we going for a break-up song now or something?”_

_Fred looked Daphne in the eyes and did something he didn’t normally allow himself to do; he felt himself swept with emotion that overcame him like a tidal wave as he reflected back on all the years they spent together. No matter what happened to Fred, in every season of his life, she had always been there beside his side. When he foolishly decided to eat candy in middle school and broke his braces, it was Daphne who went to the orthodontist with him and held his hand while the dentist fixed his teeth because Fred’s dad was too busy with work and couldn’t be bothered to take him. When Fred forgot about a paper that was due for his AP literature class his senior year, it was Daphne who drove to his house and helped him write it because he couldn’t write an essay if his life depended on it; she ended up staying all night because Fred was lost on how to write and execute the perfect thesis, and by the time they were finished the early morning sun’s gauzy light speared through Fred’s bedroom window and kissed her cheeks, making her look so beautiful when she smiled sleepily and declared Fred’s paper “a perfect A.” When he graduated from high school, it was Daphne who sat next to him in the bleachers, and it was Daphne who proceeded across the stage after him and then gave him a hug when he eyed the audience nervously, crushed when he noted his father was absent, yet again. And above all else, through every mystery and every city and every state, she was there beside him, gripping his arm when there was danger and making sure he didn’t lose sleep over constructing his new trap. They weren’t an official couple, and maybe they never would be one, but whenever he thought of love, he thought of Daphne, her presence as omnipresent and warm as the sun, and that was all he wanted for the rest of his life, until the day that he died. He knew that if he somehow managed to figure out how to keep her by his side forever, then he would be a lucky man._

_Fred gripped the pen again, and without pausing to think about it, he scrawled sloppily,_ “Our lives keep evolving, through hope and despair / I can take all the changes / Knowing you’re there.”

_He dropped the pen onto the ground and beamed triumphantly._

_“That’s what we’re going to sing about,” Fred announced. “Our song is going to focus on how the seasons change and time goes by, but yet one thing remains the same, and it’s this steadfast relationship._

_There were a few moments of silence, and for a second Fred felt panic stalking him like a lion, and he gulped nervously. He opened his mouth to ask Daphne what she was thinking when she suddenly threw her arms around his neck. Even though she caught him off guard he reacted swiftly, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her close, savoring the moment._

_“I love it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. It sounded as though she was crying for some reason, but before he could ask and confirm this she pulled away and stood, returning the laptop to its spot on her bookcase and retrieving Fred’s acoustic guitar from where it was propped against her bed. “Now we just need a melody to go with it!”_

_Two hours later they had the song perfected; Fred quickly structured a melody to match the song, and they had practiced singing it numerous times already. Whenever they sang the chorus he would catch Daphne smiling at him and his stomach felt warm, as though a fire was flickering in the pit of his belly, and his lips split subconsciously into a smile so wide, he thought his face would crack._

_“I think…I think this is it!” Daphne exclaimed. “I really feel like we have a great song here, Freddy. Thank you so much.”_

_Fred smiled back, but it felt tight, forced even; he had just composed this song that offered only a glimpse of how he felt about Daphne, and yet he still felt vulnerable, naked, as though she could read every thought that flickered across his face. He knew now would be the perfect opportunity to tell her how he felt, but already the moment was passing him; Daphne stood up and began to rummage through her room, looking for her purse so they could get ready to meet the rest of the gang, which they had agreed upon once they were finished writing their song. Fred moaned, frustrated with himself, when he thought he heard Daphne speak._

_“I’m sorry, did you say something, Daph?” Fred inquired._

_Daphne cleared her throat and spoke again, a blush steadily spilling onto her cheeks._

_“I said,” Daphne coughed. “I said, whoever she is, she’s really lucky. She must be, um, really great. I’m talking about the girl you said you love, or loved at one point, or ah, whatever.”_

_It took him a moment to figure out what she meant before he recalled what he had stated earlier, when she asked him, point-blank, if he had ever loved anyone. Once the memory crashed back into him it nearly knocked him off his feet, but he managed to collect himself so she didn’t detect any change in his demeanor. Instead he watched as she moved around her room, scrambling to get ready to meet their friends. She swiped a fresh coat of shiny lip gloss across her lips and ran a brush through her wavy auburn hair, and Fred’s heart constricted in his chest as he watched her. There were a lot of things he could say right now; he could confess that she was the inspiration behind the song, that the reason he ever agreed to working on_ Talent Star _in the first place was because he thought it was a chance to get closer to her and work up the courage to admit that he had feelings for her. He could explain that he would be so lost without her, that he wanted her with him, always, through every season and every passing day and month and year. Above all, he wanted to tell her that he really could handle any change, large or small, as long as she was beside him; even if zombies crawled out of the ground and aliens invaded the Earth and none of them turned out to be simply “bad guys in a mask,” he knew he could handle all of that as long as Daphne’s hand was in his at the start and the end of each day._

_Fred knew he should tell Daphne this, even if it was merely some of it, but in the end, he kept it simple as he smiled sadly, gazing at her standing before him._

_“Yeah,” he nodded, his voice solemn as he stared her in the eye. “You’re right; she is great. In fact, you have no idea just how amazing she is.”_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

“Like, Fredster, can you hear us?”

“Shh, Shaggy, not so loud; he’s moving. Hey, Scooby, quit poking Fred’s eye!”

“Ree he he he!”

Fred’s eyes flicker open, but the effort is slow and laborious. His neck pounds like a heartbeat, and there is immense pressure barreling down on his head, as though something heavy, like a rock, is pressing on his forehead. He can only barely distinguish the blurry outline of Velma, Scooby, and Shaggy leaning over him, their foreheads creased with concern.

“I think he’s waking up,” Velma whispers tersely, her eyes wide with relief. “Freddy, can you hear us?”

Fred groans, his senses gradually returning to him. Slowly the darkness sweeps away like chalk on a blackboard, and he notes a fluorescent ceiling light that illuminates his three friends. He feels disoriented and confused, as though he is emerging from the tail-end of a sweet, syrupy dream and is attempting to recollect where he is and the day of the week upon those first few blissful moments of awakening. It’s then that Fred realizes he is lying on his back, and for some reason this causes a whirlwind of panic to churn within him. He bolts upward, but immediately he is hit with a wave of nausea so strong that it shoves him back against the cot once more.

“Like, woah, easy there, buddy!” Shaggy exclaims as he and Velma gently press Fred back down onto the cot. “Like, don’t sit up so fast; you need to take it easy and go slow.”

“Shaggy is right,” Velma adds, producing a water bottle and guiding it towards Fred’s lips. “You took a nasty bump Fred, so you shouldn’t rush yourself so quickly. Here, drink some water.”

Velma holds the bottle for Fred as she tips it backwards slowly, and he savors the feeling of the ice cold water sliding down his throat; he hasn’t noticed the sand-paper grittiness of his mouth until after the first few merciful mouthfuls of water, and he has never been more grateful for bottled water in his life. His body feels the same way it did the one time he woke up with a hangover, after he and Shaggy took too many shots when they were celebrating the conclusion of a mystery. The light is oppressive, and it feels like tons of silver needles jabbing at his nose and eyes, and his body feels heavy as lead; if he didn’t know better, he would think that he was drugged since he retained no memory of how he even got to this point.

“You guys,” Fred moans, his voice weak. “I feel awful. What happened to me?”

Fred notices his friends shoot each other furtive glances, but they plaster smiles back on their faces swiftly. Something about the gesture sends shivers branching across Fred’s spine.

“Like, uh, you don’t remember anything, man?” Shaggy inquires, his voice hesitant.

“You do remember your name, right?” Velma prods, barely concealing the concern etched on her face. “And do you remember where we are right now?”

“Of course I know my name,” Fred snaps back a bit waspishly. For some reason he feels irritated beyond reason, and every question grates against his nerves. He isn’t sure why his friends are coddling him and treating him like a baby; he squeezes his eyes and tries to conjure the details that evade him, but it slips through his fingers like sand. Fred feels frustration flare within him and is about to insist that his friends update him on what is going on when he counts the number of people hovering over him again and realizes that someone is missing.

“Hey, where’s Daphne?” Fred asks, his eyebrows stitching together inquisitively.

His question prompts a nervous cough from Shaggy, and Scooby whimpers as Velma’s eyes flit between Fred and her other friends anxiously.

“Like, should we tell him?” Shaggy asks, his voice barely audible.

“I think he’ll find out eventually, Shaggy,” Velma sighs. “I just worry about how he’ll react once we tell him; he’s already so fragile.”

“Tell me what?!” Fred booms. The terror is stalking him from every corner now, and he’s ready to start screaming if someone doesn’t tell him what’s going on immediately. “Shaggy, Velma: what is going on?! Just tell me already!”

Velma clears her throat as she and Shaggy each hold one of Fred’s hands in their own protectively.

“So, uh, Fred,” Velma begins, her voice apprehensive. “You remember that we’re in Goose Lake, Michigan, right now, solving a mystery, right? What’s the last thing you remember about that mystery?”

Fred scrunches his eyes closed tight, as though this physical act will recall everything he needs to know. Now that Velma has mentioned it, the name Goose Lake detonates a series of flashbacks that spontaneously explode before Fred’s very eyes; he remembers driving up to Michigan from Chicago, and agreeing to sing in the revival concert that weekend with Daphne. He remembers the Goose Lake Monster and the reptile’s tall, stocky structure, and the goosebumps that slithered over Fred’s skin whenever he saw the ghost face-to-face. He remembers kissing Daphne in town in an attempt to hide from the ghost, and then, painfully, his head throbs when he remembers their fight and the double misunderstanding. And then all at once another memory consumes him, and he is unable to contain the horror that glazes over him and the sweat that trickles down his back, as though he has stepped out into the muggy summer air.

“Something smashed into me,” Fred breathes, his heart rate accelerating and knocking rapidly against his ribcage. “I remember it now. Something knocked me out after it got foggy again, but I was with Daphne right before that. So where is she?!”

Velma and Shaggy exchange surreptitious glances once again.

“She’s missing, Freddy,” Velma says gently, her eyes narrowing a bit to gauge his reaction. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Like, Velm, Scoob, and I were standin’ near the stage when the fog came in. After the smoke cleared we found you knocked out cold on your back, and like, Daphne was gone,” Shaggy adds softly. “It all happened, like, so fast. There wasn’t anything we could do about it.”

“She was ridnapped,” Scooby is the one who finally vocalizes what everyone is dancing around, and it resounds throughout Fred like a bullet to the chest.

“We’re pretty sure the Goose Lake Monster has her,” Velma clarifies, her voice as patient and kind as a kindergarten teacher as she watches Freddy closely; it’s apparent that she is being especially cautious so she doesn’t inflict Fred with any additional pain. “We heard it screech, and each time that fog is triggered, that thing makes an appearance.”

 _Daphne, kidnapped. Kidnapped. Kidnapped_. It reverberates in Fred’s mind like ripples on a pond. He tries to repeat it to himself over and over in an effort to make it more real, but the more he echoes it, the more he feels his body shake uncontrollably.

“Fred?” Velma’s voice rises a few octaves, her forehead beading with nervous perspiration. “Fred, are you okay?”

For some reason, Fred’s knee-jerk reaction is to chuckle, and once he starts it crescendos to a full-out laughing fit that constricts his chest and makes him wheeze, which only causes his friends’ jaws drop in shock. Is he okay? _Is he okay?!_ How is he even expected to respond to that question at this point? In the past week alone, he’s been through so much turbulence with his relationship with Daphne, and moments before it seemed as though they were close to speaking about everything that had happened to them, that moment was cruelly shattered. To top it all off, now that he’s finally awake, he learns that Daphne is kidnapped. Fred isn’t one for conspiracy theories, but if he were, it would feel very plausible to him that the universe is actively working to destroy him by forcing him to implode on himself like a dying star, and he can’t help but feel bitter, as though his insides are decaying and corroding slowly; seriously, how much could one person handle in such a short time span?

“Like, maybe we should call an ambulance or somethin’,” Shaggy murmurs, staring at Fred’s convulsing body with alarm.

“I don’t need a doctor, Shag,” Fred replies gruffly, his laughter ceasing abruptly as his shoulders slouch forward, the defeat a physical oppression weighing him down. “What I need is a goddamn break! This is all my fault; maybe if I had been more aware of what was going on, I could have saved her. I did it once before when it attacked during dress rehearsal; I should have been able to do it again.”

“Freddy, please,” Velma begs, her voice breaking at the sight of Fred’s distress. “It isn’t your fault, nor is it anyone else’s fault for that matter. That monster knows what he’s doing when he uses that smoke to distract us, and this time it just happened to work. But it’s all right, because this has happened before, and we’ll get Daphne back safely in no time! We just need to come up with a plan.”

Fred appreciates how logical and rational Velma appears right now because his mind is a chaotic pit, and each individual thought he hatches is a venomous snake that threatens to poison him. He always feels the sting of disappointment when any of his friends is missing, but this is infinitely worse; he had already hurt Daphne with the conversation she overheard with Erica, and now he went and made it worse by allowing her to be kidnapped. He wonders where she could be hidden right now; is she in a dark, cold cellar, or the recesses of a humid cave, shivering and wondering when she will be rescued? Is Daphne scared and worried that he and the rest of the gang will never find her? Does she know that Fred would never forgive himself for this, and would never rest until she was safe again? And where is the Goose Lake Monster? What if it was there with Daphne too? Worse yet, was it possible that creature was hurting her at this very moment? Fred tried to stop the carousal of thoughts that spun in his mind, but it is impossible; his brain would not be still. Each scenario makes his stomach churn, as though a hive of angry hornets buzzed inside of him, and he vows that he will find Daphne immediately, even if it’s the very last thing he ever does.

And if the Goose Lake monster pulled even a single hair from her head, well, then it would have to answer to Fred.

“You’re right Velma, we have to solve this mystery and find Daphne, quick!” Fred exclaims, slowly sitting up on his elbows with his friends’ guidance. “Hey, by the way, where are we right now? The last place I remember being was outside, near the lake.”

“You’re, like, inside the infirmary in the campground office building,” Shaggy answers. “Jordie and Sid helped us carry you in here after the monster, like, peaced out!”

Fred’s senses have finally been restored, and he takes a chance to observe his surroundings. Surprisingly, this is actually the first time he has found himself inside the Goose Lake campground’s office building; there has been no reason for him and the gang to be inside until now. He had fleetingly wondered a few times about the office’s interior rooms, and now that he finally sees it with his own eyes, it more or less matches up with his expectations of a campground’s office. The walls are constructed of wood, and every single inch is covered in a framed photo of a beaming family or even an individual person partaking in various outdoor activities at Goose Lake. Fred even spots one photo that appears to have been taken a few years ago, and it shows Erica and Jordie, smiling proudly in front of the Goose Lake office building with a pair of keys dangling in Erica’s hand. The faint scent of lemongrass tickles Fred’s nostrils, and it’s then he glances down and notices the stiff white mattress with the sterile, thin blankets that he’s been resting on this whole time. On a desk near the foot of his bed is a first aid kit, with various boxes of band-aids and wraps and ointments scattered nearby, and in the corner of the room he spots a small gurgling aquarium containing a single goldfish. If Fred weren’t so distressed, he might have marveled at the quaint, homey atmosphere; he almost feels as though he is nestled inside a cozy log cabin bedroom located in the woods.

“How long have I been out?” Fred asks sleepily, still attempting to gather his bearings. His head is still pulsating and his body is still throbbing with pain, and yet, he feels the same kind of drowsiness that occurs when he’s taken a nap for too long.

“Ah, well, the monster knocked you out last night, and you’ve been out since then. And now it’s,” Velma consults the watch strapped around her wrist. “Now it’s eight in the morning.”

“WHAT?! It’s been like ten hours since I was hit?!” Fred yelps, causing Shaggy and Scooby to jump. “Why didn’t you guys wake me sooner?! And why didn’t you start looking for Daphne without me?!”

“Like, we couldn’t just wake ya up, man!” Shaggy exclaims. “You were out like a light, and we all thought it was best to, like, let ya rest a bit.”

“Re did ry to rook for Raphne,” Scooby adds quietly.

“Scooby is right,” Velma nods. “After Jordie and Sid helped us get you situated in here, we all split up and combed through the campground searching for clues and any trace of Daphne, but it was late and it was dark outside; we struggled to see anything using just our flashlights. We decided to pause our search sometime after midnight, and Shag, Scoob, and I took turns watching over you as we all slept to make sure you were all right. We figured it would be best to try and start over again in the morning.”

Fred closes his eyes and massages his fingers against his temple. It’s even worse than he had initially thought; not only is Daphne gone, but she’s been missing for hours. _Several_ hours. He knows his friends meant well and that they had to deal with his health, too, but he can’t help but feel frustration wash over him like a wave. If he had been awake, he would have insisted on searching for Daphne until she was found.

“You guys shouldn’t have worried about me,” Fred moans, opening his eyes slowly. “I just want Daphne back safe again.”

“But, like, Fred, that’s what we all want,” Shaggy offers a small smile.

“Believe us, Freddy, Shaggy is right; I want her back safe and sound, too,” Velma echoes, squeezing Fred’s hand comfortingly. “But we have to be cautious about this, and we had to make sure you were okay, too. I think it was no accident that the monster took you out and then kidnapped Daphne. We all know he’s been targeting you both since the very start of this mystery, and it’s obvious to me that he still wants you both gone. I don’t understand why you’re such a threat to him, but we were worried that he would consider coming back for you. We just couldn’t risk it.”

Fred exhales, attempting to release the tension knotting in his chest. He wishes the monster had taken him, as well; maybe then he could have had a shot at protecting Daphne, or at the very least, he would have been suffering alongside her.

“I’m sorry guys,” Fred sighs. “I’m not trying to take my anger out on you, and I know you were worried about protecting me. I’m just so worried and upset about Daphne.”

“Like, we all are, buddy,” Shaggy responds warmly. “Don’t worry – we’ll get her back!”

“Re ron’t stop until re do!” Scooby chirps.

Velma and Shaggy wrap their arms around Fred’s shoulders as they guide him back onto his feet, but already the adrenaline has pumped away the drowsiness and Fred is thinking about what’s next. He slides off the cot and tests his feet, and his first few steps are wobbly as a newborn calf, but he steadies himself with the help of his friends again.

“So, what do you suggest we do next, Fred?” Velma inquires.

Fred considers this for a few moments. Normally it would be wise to split up and seek more clues, but he would rather not do that considering Daphne is missing and, as Velma has astutely stated, the Goose Lake Monster seems hell-bent on hurting and potentially capturing Fred, too. For that reason alone, it’s worth sticking together, but it also feels pointless to try and find clues with Daphne missing and possibly in danger. Normally Fred and the gang like to have a decent idea of who the monster is before constructing a trap; it helps them have an idea of how to catch the suspect off guard if they know who it is, and it gives them insight on how that person thinks and operates. But this time, the gang have virtually no idea, and there is only one clue: the grey shred of cloth that reads “cords,” which yields no potential suspect. Between the fact that the monster could strike again at any given moment and that it has Daphne as its captor, Fred decides it’s time to make a bold move.

“I think we need to trap this thing and put an end to this mystery, once and for all,” Fred asserts solemnly. “We could try and find Daphne first, but she could be anywhere. I think our best bet is luring the monster out of hiding; if we find him and trap him, then we can make him tell us where he has Daphne.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Fred,” Velma muses. “But how will we guarantee that the monster comes out? We’ll need to bait him and give him an enticing reason to come out.”

“Like, Scoob and I know where this is goin’,” Shaggy groans. “We’re always the live bait!”

“Rhat’s right!” Scooby cries, his eyes already welling up as the fear ripples through his body. “Re rant Rooby Racks as up front rayment!”

“Up front payment?!” Velma parrots. “You two and your demands are getting wilder and wilder with every mystery!”

“Don’t worry about it Shag and Scooby, I’m going to be the live bait this time,” Fred insists, which draws gasps and wide eyes from his friends. “Velma said it best; the Goose Lake Monster clearly wants me and Daphne out of the picture. Now that he has Daph, he’s going to come after me, not Scooby and Shaggy. I think that for some reason this monster does not want the concert to go on, and Daphne and I are the only thing standing in its way. Now that Daphne and Elliott have been kidnapped, it’s just me left, so we need to act like we’re moving forward with this show so that it believes I’m a viable threat and it forces the Goose Lake Monster to come after me.”

Fred pauses to see if his friends will interrupt or protest, but everyone is silent. He glances around, and it’s then he notices that he hasn’t seen Jordie or Sid since he’s woken.

“Where are Jordie and Sid?” Fred asks. “We need them to put out a social media alert telling everyone that the show is still going on tomorrow, even if it means we tell the public that it’s just me at this point.”

“They’re actually talking to Officer Bradford,” Velma answers. “After the three of us began taking shifts to watch over you throughout the night, they went home to rest for a bit. Jordie texted us a couple hours ago and said he and Sid were going to speak with Officer Bradford about the attack last night, and to see if there was an update on Erica. I think Jordie is really concerned because this recent attack seems to clear Erica’s name, but no one actually saw the monster this time, so we aren’t totally sure.”

“Okay, well, when they get back I need them to send out an email blast to the fans letting them know this is still on,” Fred repeats. “We need the monster to believe this is actually happening. And like Velma said, it seems like it’s targeting all the musicians in the show, so if we make it believe the concert is still happening because I’m still up for it, then it’ll have no choice but to come out and find us.”

“But, like, Freddy, are you so sure about this? I mean, you just, were like, hurt last night, and we don’t have a solid game plan. How are we goin’ to make sure the Monster doesn’t get you next?” Shaggy is finally the one who hesitantly voices what everyone is thinking.

“I – I don’t know that yet, Shaggy; I haven’t quite figured it out,” Fred admits a bit shakily. He’ll feel better once he builds a trap; he’s suddenly craving the feeling of a braided rope in his hands. “Let’s just work on making a trap for now and go from there; I’ll feel better when that’s done. And once we have something, we’ll plan a dress rehearsal for this afternoon. Hopefully, the Goose Lake Monster returns since he has attacked every other rehearsal, and when he does, we’ll be ready for him!”

“I think this is a solid plan,” Velma affirms, her voice sounding more confident than it has in a while. “What did you have in mind for a trap, Fred?”

“Ah, nothing too fancy, I was thinking of using trusty old reliable number forty-six from my book of traps!” Fred replies with a gleam in his eye. “But to pull that one off, we need some supplies. I know you said Jordie and Sid are out, but do you think they would mind if we borrow some things from the campground offices?”

“I don’t see why not,” Velma shrugs. “After all, we would be doing them a favor if we manage to catch this creep. What do we need?”

“Well, I need a net, at least a few of them, and maybe a couple of drills, and maybe we should get a giant fan again…” Fred knows he is rambling now, but this is where he shines brightest; everyone in Mystery Incorporated is celebrated for having their own unique talents, and aside from being the group leader, this is definitely his wheelhouse. He’s always been transfixed by nets and levers and pulleys, and how gravity can betray the human body when a trap is constructed just right. It consumes so much of his mind that he even carries around a spare net, similar to how women carry pepper spray for protection; in fact, Daphne and Velma had actually caught Fred sleeping with a net last week in Chicago. His cheeks had initially flushed a deep shade of salmon when they giggled, but he was the one who stopped one of the phantoms from slicing Scooby and Shaggy like a pepperoni pizza, so who really got the last laugh in the end?

As Fred speaks, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby are sweeping through the infirmary, checking every drawer and every corner for the supplies Fred is listing. Surprisingly, Shaggy unearths a rope tucked away in the supply closet, which could definitely be useful, but the number forty-six requires a minimum of three nets, and Fred really wants to have fans on hand again since the creature will undoubtedly attempt to disorient everyone with smoke, as it always does.

“Are there other offices in here that we can check?” Fred asks. “I think we’ll have more luck if we check elsewhere.”

“Like, we’ve only been in this room, but I’m sure we can check it out!” Shaggy says.

Fred leads his friends out of the infirmary and down a short hallway with two other doors. A plaque on the door next to the infirmary reads “Elliot,” which Fred assumes to be Elliott’s personal office. He knocks on the door out of habit, and then chuckles once he realizes Elliott isn’t going to answer since he’s kidnapped, and he tries the doorknob, which is luckily unlocked and swings open easily. Fred nudges his way through the door, his friends trailing behind him, drinking in the orderly structure of the office. A mahogany table is placed in the middle of the room, and two magazines are stacked near an Apple laptop. Tucked beneath the desk is a mini cabinet, presumably containing documents and files, and the walls contain only one photo of Elliott performing on stage, which is a stark contrast to the infirmary and its endless parade of smiling faces, forever trapped in a single moment. Fred tries to taper the sting of disappointment when he notes only one closet in the office; the gang will have to hope that there are a few items worth using hidden in the supply closet since Elliott’s office is so clean and spotless, offering no immediate objects worth using in a trap.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting Elliott’s office to open so easily,” Velma thinks aloud as Shaggy, Scooby, and Fred move towards the closet, yanking it open and surveying the inside. “Do you think Sid has been in here recently? Why else would this be unlocked if Elliott was kidnapped a few weeks ago?”

“That’s my guess,” Fred says absentmindedly, sifting through cleaning supplies and buckets and mops alongside Shaggy and Scooby. “What makes you mention that, Velma?”

Velma is silent as she eyes Elliott’s desk. She hastily sticks her head outside the hallway before she leaps towards the filing cabinet in two fluid bounds and drops to the ground, yanking the drawer open and rifling through various files swiftly, as though she’s going to change her mind if she doesn’t move quickly.

“Velma, what are you doing?!” Fred stops shuffling through the closet to gawk at his friend. “That isn’t our stuff!”

“No, it isn’t, but that hasn’t stopped us in the past, has it?” Velma asks playfully, a mischievous grin cracking her face.

“Touché,” Fred laughs in spite of himself as Shaggy and Scooby pause to watch Velma. “Why are you looking through Elliott’s things though? There’s no way he’s been in here recently; he was kidnapped a couple days ago.”

“Just a hunch,” Velma replies vaguely. It’s clear she is looking for something, but Fred has no idea what it could be that she intends to find. It makes no sense to him to try and find clues in Elliott’s office; if he was kidnapped by the monster, then it obviously can’t be him behind all of this. Besides, why would he want to sabotage his own concert? He was supposed to be the headlining act.

Fred is about to ask Velma all of this when Shaggy points to Scooby’s paw and says, “Like, Scoob, you got somethin’ on your paw there.”

The room pauses as everyone’s gaze flickers towards Scooby’s right paw, and sure enough, there is a yellow piece of paper clinging stubbornly to his fur. Scooby lifts his leg up so Shaggy can bend forward and tug it off his friend, and once Shaggy folds the creases out of the paper, his eyes dance across the page as he reads. Fred steps behind Shaggy and immediately recognizes the Land O’ Lakes Butter mascot, but he quickly recalls that this was the same image used for the original Goose Lake concert fifty years ago, which Sid and Jordie had shown the gang when they first arrived a few days ago. It makes sense that this would be a recurring image; the paper is clearly a flyer announcing the upcoming revival show, which is obvious based on all the bands advertised for this upcoming weekend, alongside the dates listed at the top. The headlining acts receive the largest font, and Fred recognizes every single one: Arctic Monkeys, The Black Keys, and The 1975. Bands that are the opening acts or slotted to precede the headliners include The Wombats, Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness, and Of Monsters and Men. Elliott is listed in the last row, alongside two other local artists who were slated to perform before the mainstream bands took the stage.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure this is a flyer announcing the original Goose Lake Concert,” Fred surmises. “That’s funny because we never actually asked Jordie and Erica who was originally signed up for the concert before everyone bailed. There’s some big names on here too, like The 1975 and Arctic Monkeys. It’s too bad everyone else fell through because of the Goose Lake Monster; that would have been a helluva show!”

“Hmmm,” Velma stands slowly, closing the filing cabinet shut delicately; apparently, she hadn’t found whatever it was seeking. “That sure is interesting. You would think someone would have mentioned that before.”

“Like, who the fuck are Arctic Monkeys?” Shaggy asks innocently.

“WHAT?!” Fred shrills in disbelief. “You’ve never heard of the band Arctic Monkeys?! Honestly, Shaggy, what are we even going to do with you?”

“Ri ron’t ro who rhat is, reither,” Scooby adds.

“Unbelievable,” Fred mutters. “I can’t believe you guys don’t – “

“Jinkies! Gang, look what I just found!”

Shaggy, Scooby, and Fred swivel towards Velma, who is holding a few clipped newspaper articles in her hands. Fred steps forward tentatively and grabs one from her, scanning the article quickly.

“It’s an article about how Mac Miller’s music sales rose exponentially after he died,” Fred murmurs, unsure of why this would be so significant.

“I found that article, plus two other articles written on the deaths of other musicians and how it positively impacted their music sales,” Velma explains, pressing the other two articles into Shaggy’s hands so he can read them, too. “And the fourth clip was about an artist who lived just an hour away from here and went missing last winter; his sales have been consistently high ever since his disappearance.”

“Isn’t that interesting,” Fred remarks, his spine tingling as the familiar rush of adrenaline courses through his veins.

“But, like, why is this here in Elliott’s office?” Shaggy wrinkles his nose.

“I think I’m starting to have an idea,” Velma says. “But I can’t be too positive. What we really need is another – “

_BUZZ, BUZZ._

Everyone flinches, as though they’ve been caught committing a crime, but Fred’s shoulders relax when he realizes it’s his phone, which is vibrating because he has an incoming call. He glances at the screen and marks the name of the caller: Elma. “What in the world could she want right now?” he wonders.

Fred answers his phone as Velma returns to shuffling through Elliott’s desk and Shaggy and Scooby return to the closet, returning to the original intention of compiling items to use for a trap. “Hey Elma, what’s going on?”

“Hey Fred!” Elma’s voice chirps through the phone, giddy as ever. “It’s good to hear from you again! Listen, are you still working on that case for Jordie and Sid? I actually have some stuff I need to return to them.”

“Ah, yeah, we are,” Fred responds, only half paying attention to the conversation; he’s rejoined Shaggy and Scooby in the closet, and his heart leaps at the sight of a net tucked behind a bucket and a mop. “Why, do you have any information regarding the case?”

“Oh no, I don’t know a damn thing about that!” Elma laughs. “I actually have some wonderful news; I’m moving back to Hollywood!”

“Wow, that’s awesome, Elma! Congrats!” Fred replies, but his voice lacks the enthusiasm it might have normally contained if he weren’t distracted; his mind is spinning towards the end goal of obtaining enough nets to build this trap. The longer it takes them to build this thing, the longer it is that Daphne is held in captivity, and he didn’t want her to have to wait any longer than she already did.

“Thanks so much!” Elma trills, oblivious to the distance in Fred’s voice. “I decided after you and Daphne left yesterday that I missed it a lot, and since my dad is gone and I have no job with this concert being scaled down now, there’s really no reason for me to stick around here anymore. I was packing up my stuff and I found a box of merch that Sid had asked me to sell at the concert, and I don’t feel right keeping it all, so I wanted to drop it off before I head out tomorrow afternoon. I keep trying to call Sid and Jordie on their cell, but it keeps going straight to voicemail. Do you know where I could find them?”

“Oh, uh, they’re actually at the police station,” Fred answers; he remembers Velma mentioning that Sid and Jordie would still be preoccupied another few hours. “But the gang and I are actually at the Goose Lake campground offices, so if you wanna just leave it with us, we’ll take care of it and make sure it gets back in their hands.”

“Oh, perf!” Elma squeals. “I was kinda hoping you would say that because I’m actually outside right now! I’m going to walk in right now. Thanks so much, Fred!”

Elma disconnects before Fred can even respond, and he shoves his phone back into his pocket, diving back into the closet. His hands graze an orange cordless power drill and he grins, grasping it in his hands, when a knock outside Elliott’s office draws him away from the closet.

“Hey hey, friends!” Elma giggles, stepping into the office and forcing everyone to pause. Today Elma is wearing a pink wig, and the cheerful vibrancy reminds Fred of cotton candy. Her make-up is once again eye-catching; she has delicately applied oranges and yellows and lime greens into the crease of her eyes, and a metallic sky blue sweeps across her lids. She wears a pink tulle skirt that swings beneath her knees and a lilac lace shirt; somehow, her outfit is even brighter than her make-up, and Fred can’t help but feel as though Elma matches the rainbow wigs that stood at attention in her living room; she is just that colorful.

“Like, is this Elma?” Shaggy guesses. Fred is instantly worried that she will be offended; he had disclosed her vivacity to his friends after their clue hunt, and he didn’t want Elma to think he had described her out of malice, but she merely laughs again and gives Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby a friendly handshake.

“I’m the one and only!” she smiles, gazing at the gang. If she considers asking why they are going through Elliott’s belongings, she decides against it and says instead, “Is it still okay if I leave the merch with you?”

“Yeah yeah, just drop it on the desk,” Fred replies, turning back towards the closet; he’s already thinking of the final net he needs in order to pull off the trap. He turns towards a shelf towards his right when he notices out of the corner of his eye that the box Elma has delivered is ajar, revealing a pile of charcoal shirts. A thought gnaws at Fred, and he moves towards the box and withdraws a shirt from the very top, eliciting a gasp from Velma when he unfurls it and shows everyone the text: “ _Elliott Finn:_ _Vicious Records_.”

“Like, I remember those!” Shaggy exclaims. “Those were the shirts Elliott wanted to sell at the show. He showed us those when we, like, first got here!”

“Yeah, I was supposed to help sell some of these after I finished working on hair and make-up for the other bands, and I guess Elliott and Sid forgot that I still had these,” Elma shrugs.

But Fred hardly hears this exchange because his heart is thumping in his ears and his breathing is staggered, as though he’s just run a marathon. _Cords. The smoke. The newspaper articles. The kidnappings._ It’s all falling into place, like pieces of a puzzle.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, huh?” Velma asks slyly as she smiles at Fred.

“I sure am,” Fred affirms; he can see the end of this mystery approaching like the sun cresting the horizon during the early morning dawn. “I’m also thinking that I was right about how it’s the perfect time for a trap. We need to get moving so we can get Daphne back as soon as possible!”

“Like, I don’t think I’m following?” Shaggy says slowly as Scooby cocks his head in confusion. Elma looks bewildered, her eyes darting towards the door, as though she is worried she has interrupted something.

“We’ll explain everything while we set up this trap, Shaggy,” Velma replies reassuringly. “But Fred is right; we need to move forward with a staged dress rehearsal, immediately, and act as though this concert is happening. But in order for us to pull this off, it would really be best if we have both Fred _and_ Daphne; that’s the only way this is going to work out.”

“Like, I’m still not following,” Shaggy sing-songs anxiously.

Velma turns to Elma, her lips curving into a smile. “Don’t worry, I have a plan that will _definitely_ make this so-called Goose Lake Monster appear during the rehearsal; Elma, we could really use your help to pull this off. You mentioned that you have costumes and wigs and stuff, right?”

“Oh yeah, I’m totally your girl!” Elma beams proudly, but then her forehead furrows as the confusion settles. “But what do you need from me?”

Velma grins cunningly, like a villain who has just succeeded in taking over the world, and asks ambiguously, “Do you have a red haired wig and a purple dress? I think we have a sudden urge to play dress up at our rehearsal this afternoon.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Okay, before I go into this chapter, I just want to thank a few people from this fandom/community who have really helped me out over these past several weeks. Without revealing too much, something in my personal life disrupted my whole world, and I was blown away by the amount of support and love I received from fellow Scooby Doo fanfic writers who have evolved from readers and other Scooby writers to friends over the span of this past year. I just want to give a huge thank you to my friends Kate, SpongeAddict, Scoobysurfers, and AnonymousAva for everything you've done for me these last several weeks, whether it was texting me to see how I was doing, or offering me encouragement with this fic, which is really keeping me sane during this time. This one is dedicated to you all; thank you for being wonderful human beings, and quite simply, thank you for existing.
> 
> Oh, and a HUGE thanks to my friend Kate, who beta read this chapter once again and helped me with some feedback! This one is a bit more explicit due to peril and language, so a T/M rating becomes prominent here.
> 
> As always, please read and review if you enjoy! - iamacliche

**Chapter 15**

“Okay, Fred, Elma – are you ready??”

Fred nods grimly as he stares resolutely at the stage before him. He has felt nauseous since he discovered the Monster had kidnapped Daphne, but he ignores the panic rising in him like bile as he and the gang put their plan into motion, preparing to bait the monster for – hopefully – the final time. He knows he has to be fearless since Daphne’s safe return depends on it, but that doesn’t stop the shiver snaking down his spine. Would the Goose Lake Monster buy into the façade? And more importantly, would their trap actually work, and would it unfurl seamlessly? Fred silences these dark thoughts and paranoia, reminding himself this needs to be successful because Daphne’s life depends upon it; failure is not an option. He grips his guitar case in his hand as Elma and Velma flank him, the arrangement reminiscent to a gladiator leading an army in a fight for their lives against their enemies.

As soon as the trio step onto the stage, the charged atmosphere changes; it’s as though the storm cloud that hovered over them is replaced with an urgency, a sort of madness that occurs in people who are scrambling and fleeing for their lives before a hurricane touches the ground. Velma adjusts the microphone stand in front of Elma and turns it on, flinching only slightly at the screech of feedback erupting over the monitors. Fred toggles the guitar mic and the vocal mic, suppressing the melancholy that stabs him when he realizes that the last time he did this, it was with Daphne by his side. Meanwhile, Elma adjusts her purple knee length dress, tugging it so that it rides below her knees, and she smooths the flyaway hairs on the auburn wig that flows past her shoulders. The subtle movements are enough to highlight how she is eerily reminiscent of Daphne right now; between Elma’s elaborate hair and make-up and costume and her slender, hourglass figure, she might as well resemble Daphne’s sister, or a first cousin. Fred turns away, his heart begins palpitating and his palms slick with sweat. He can’t articulate why, but this feels wrong somehow, as though Fred is betraying Daphne by allowing this to happen; he swallows past the lump in his throat and tells himself that this is all designed to rescue Daphne, but for some reason, this does little to satiate him. Maybe it would be best to ignore Elma altogether and address her only fleetingly, out of the corner of his eye, when it was necessary; Fred needed to be fully present and focused if they were going to pull this off.

The sight of Shaggy and Scooby exiting the Goose Lake Office Campground and lumbering lazily towards the stage distracts Fred, and he rolls his eyes at his friends’ jovial attitude. Normally, Shaggy and Scooby are so accustomed to being the live bait during the end of a mystery, and it isn’t even a question anymore; however, now that they’re not only being asked, but expected to sit this one out leaves them floating like a cloud, and giddy and silly as schoolchildren.

“Like, okay,” Shaggy chirps once he’s approached the stage. “It’s, like, all set.”

“Good,” Velma says curtly as she sits on the front of the stage, pushing herself forward to land on the grass and walk towards Shaggy and Scooby. “Tell me exactly what you told Jordie and Sid just now.”

“We, like, said exactly what you asked us to say,” Shaggy recounts. “We told them that while they were out with that cheery Officer Bradford dude, we ran into Elma and realized that she would, like, make the perfect Daphne substitute with all her wigs and costumes and stuff. I think they were, like, surprised that Fred would want to move forward with the real Daph still gone, but I told them that, like, we had to do it so the Goose Lake Monster wouldn’t win, and they, like, bought it.”

Fred visibly baulks when Shaggy mentions that Jordie and Sid are shocked at Fred’s willingness to move forward. He isn’t sure what to make of that remark; are they surprised because they think that’s heartless and insensitive of him to replace Daphne so easily? Or are they surprised because they admire his supposed grit and determination, in spite of his close friend’s kidnapping? 

“Ri rhink they’re rorried that reople ron’t believe rit’s Raphne,” Scooby adds.

Elma wrinkles her nose. “Uh, what did he say? I need a translator.”

“He said that Jordie and Sid are worried the crowd won’t believe it’s actually Daphne, but that obviously doesn’t matter since this will all be over by tomorrow’s show anyway, and we’ll have the real Daphne back,” Velma clarifies. “As long as that didn’t stop them from promoting the concert online and announcing that it would still happen with both Fred and Daphne, as we planned. That’s all we need is for everyone, including them, to think that Fred and ‘Daphne’ will perform in tomorrow’s concert.”

 _Tomorrow_. It feels close within reach, as though Fred could just stretch forward and graze it like something tangible, but it also feels elusive and distant. He and Daphne poured hours into this set list (granted, it was a last minute concert, but still), and he had eagerly awaited their second live performance together, but he hadn’t expected so much change to occur in such a short time; just the thought of it causes a tightness in his chest, as though his ribcage is disintegrating, bone-dust filling him up.

“Like, I’m still confused,” Shaggy confesses. “Why can’t we tell Jordie and Sid that this is like, a set-up? Why do we need even them to believe that Elma is replacing Daph, too?”

“Shaggy, look what happened with Erica,” Velma explains patiently. “I still don’t know how she fits in on all this, but we can’t take any more chances; her arrest made it very clear that we can’t trust anyone right now, aside from ourselves and Elma, of course.” 

“Hold on, we’ve got company!” Fred whispers frantically as Jordie and Sid emerge from the Goose Lake Campground Offices. Jordie still walks slouched forward, as though a boulder is pressing into his back; apparently, even though they tried to clear Erica’s name with the recent attack and kidnapping last night, Officer Bradford had insisted on requiring more proof. He was waiting on the permit to pour through Elma’s phone for evidence, which was due to arrive at some point today. Even though the situation was less bleak for his daughter, Jordie still appears crestfallen, his eyes sunken and his face hollow, as though he’s somehow lost ten pounds in just a day or two, although Fred would guess that this has been a gradual decline since the Goose Lake Monster had been attempting to thwart the show for a few weeks now.

“Make sure you keep Sid and Jordie away from both the staircases attached to the stage,” Fred reminds Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby, his voice a terse whisper. “In fact, I would have Shaggy and Velma stationed near them at all times so that if one or both of them make a move, you guys can distract them. We don’t want them to fall into the trap and ruin everything!”

“Got it!” Shaggy and Velma nod.

“Scooby, are you ready with the spare net for the stage if the traps on either side of the staircase somehow don’t work out?” Fred asks, eyeing Sid and Jordie as they approach rapidly.

“Ri rot it,” Scooby confirms, gesturing his head towards the side of the stage. “Ri will rop the ret if ri see the ronster rake it past the other rets!”

“Good boy,” Fred pats Scooby’s head twice. “Okay gang, it’s show time! Let’s stop this creep once and for all so we can find Daphne!”

Everyone scatters like leaves blowing on the ground; Scooby drifts towards the side of the stage, stealthily concealing himself behind Fred’ guitar case so he is positioned to drop a net at a second’s notice should he need to do it. Velma erects the oversized battery operated fan the gang have purchased; this time, they’re prepared if the Goose Lake Monster triggers a fog. Meanwhile, Shaggy approaches Jordie and Sid casually, doling out high-fives as though he’s their brand new best friend. Fred chances a glance at Elma, but she’s standing a few feet in front of him, so he only sees her purple tights and her purple heels and the auburn of her wavy wig, and for some reason spots of black-red flash in the margins of his vision, threatening to sweep over him like a tidal wave.

Instead of torturing himself with thoughts of Daphne and whether or not she’s okay, Fred mentally reviews the plan in his head once more, combing through every detail painstakingly. The first phase of their trap has already been set into motion; they need everyone, including Sid and Jordie, to believe this elaborate ruse is an authentic attempt at pressing forward with the concert. Between the recent evidence in Elliott’s office and the targeted attacks on Fred and Daphne, it’s evident that the monster does not want the concert to continue, so this “dress rehearsal” and the advertisement of Fred and Daphne (cosplayed by Elma) deciding to play the show tomorrow is almost certainly bound to attract the Goose Lake Monster. Once Elma and Fred begin playing, the Monster will hopefully attack; if it attempts to blind everyone with smoke again, Velma will switch on the fan instantly and reduce the chance of causing chaos, which gives the monster the home team advantage. Ideally, the monster will then approach Elma and Fred in hopes of hurting or kidnapping them, but to do that, he’ll have to climb one of the staircases on either side of the stage, like he did when he took Elliott. This is why Mystery Incorporated and Elma dug ten foot holes right before each staircase; once the Goose Lake Monster tries to climb that first rung, then the ground will crumple beneath his feet, Shaggy and Velma will toss one of the nets over him to ensure he is secured, and it’ll end right there.

That’s how the plan will unravel if everything goes accordingly, but after years of solving mysteries, Fred quickly learned he should always have a back-up prepared, just in case. That was why he had Scooby stationed in the wings of the stage, ready to press a button and drop a net that hung precariously from the crosswalk above should the Goose Lake Monster somehow surpass the holes. Fred was pretty sure the monster wouldn’t be able to do that, however; the stage was fairly high off the ground, and it would take way more time and energy to haul his body over as opposed to entering from the staircase.

Yup, old reliable trap number forty-six, specifically designed for theater and concerts, was flawless; it was perfect; it was –

Elma snaps her long black fingernails in front of Fred’s nose, as though she’s luring him out of a trance. “Fred!” she snaps. “Can you hear me?!”

“Huh?!” Fred shakes his head blearily, his thoughts dispersing as Elma attempts to grab his attention. “What did I miss?!”

“I’ve been asking if your guitar is tuned and ready to go, but you look really spaced out, man,” Elma says, her forehead creasing with concern. “Are you all right?”

It isn’t Elma’s fault by any means, especially since she surely does not realize the weighty significance of what she’s asked, but Fred laughs at the obscurity of her question. How did he even attempt to answer that right now?

“Uh, yeah, I think I’ll be okay, Elma,” Fred replies tersely. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out on ya, but yeah, my guitar is good. I’m just waiting to get the ‘okay’ from Jordie before we start playing.”

Elma’s gaze flits towards Jordie, who is talking to Velma about the audience’s safety for the show as Sid and Shaggy have a separate discussion about their favorite snacks. Even though the mid-summer afternoon is already muggy and hot, causing sweat to trickle down Fred’s back in a steady stream, Elma appears cool and composed; her foundation is flawlessly applied, with not a single bead of sweat dotting her forehead, and her clothes don’t betray her with sweat stains in embarrassing places, which unfortunately happens to Fred often. Quick as lightning, Fred finds himself thinking that Elma is beautiful before it wisps away like smog in the early morning light. But it doesn’t matter since no matter who he meets, he’ll always find himself comparing every woman to Daphne, because she’s it; she’s everything to him. She’s the standard by which he’ll judge beauty for the rest of his life. Fred will measure every touch to her hand laced in his hand, every voice to her sweet and syrupy voice, every mind to her mind. To him, Daphne is the standard of perfection, the name emblazoned in his heart like a tattoo. And if he could, if he weren’t so gutless, so spineless, he would have confessed all of this to her much, much sooner.

Almost as though she can read his mind, Elma watches Fred and her face is suddenly vulnerable and open, a pink spilling onto her cheeks that wasn’t there before, and she asks quietly, “You love her a lot, don’t you?”

Fred gasps, but with all the obsessing over all things “Fraphne” this week, the question doesn’t burn and make him squirm the way it once did only a week ago.

“It’s that obvious, huh?” Fred exhales, the tension in his shoulders releasing slowly.

“Well, I figured it out pretty quick,” Elma smiles. “As in, like, as soon as you both walked into my house to speak with me the other afternoon.”

Fred lets loose a laugh in spite of himself. “So pretty much the moment you met me, huh? I’m just an open book, aren’t I?”

Fred’s words have a jagged, serrated edge to them, but his voice sounds defeated, almost sad, and Elma’s expression is somehow even softer that it was before, if that’s possible.

“Have you told her that you love her?” she asks innocently.

The question is like a rope binding and constricting Fred’s chest, suffocating him of any oxygen.

“I – no, I haven’t,” Fred admits dejectedly. “And now I think it’s kind of too late.”

Elma doesn’t respond immediately, and the only sounds that fill the Michigan summer afternoon are Shaggy and Velma’s voices wafting towards the stage as they speak with Sid and Jordie, with the occasional bird’s sing-song chirp puncturing the conversations on the lawn.

“All right, so you didn’t tell her, but did you at least show her that you loved her?” Elma asks, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

It’s a question that forces Fred to pause. “What do you mean?”

Elma chuckles softly.

“I’m no expert with romance by any means, but I’ve dated a good amount of guys – and girls, too – to learn that sometimes it’s hard for humans, no matter what gender, to come out and say and admit what’s on their minds, especially when it’s the raw, real stuff, like the big ‘L’ word,” Elma explains. “So for me, when a relationship is in that early, awkward stage where you’re not sure how the other person feels about you, I always ask myself, ‘If they don’t tell me they love me, do they at least show that they love me with their actions?’ And even when I’m with someone who says it all the time, I still ask myself if their words match up with how they behave, because that’s what it’s all about for me; you have to show someone that you love them, and prove that the world is infinitely better because that person is alive. So, did you show Daphne in any way that you love her?”

Elma’s words are swift jabs to Fred’s gut, and he’s nearly ready to collapse onto the stage. He knows how he wants to answer Elma; he wants to nod passionately and assert that, yes, Daphne should know without a shadow of a doubt that Fred loves her because he illustrates it every day, whether it be in small gestures that go unnoticed or loud, boisterous actions that underscore how he would die for her in a heartbeat. But he knows that isn’t entirely truthful. He did write their _Talent Star_ song with her in mind as she sat five feet away from him, and while he had intended for that to be a vulnerable, romantic gesture, Fred never actually told Daphne it was about her; the song, therefore, could have easily been interpreted as a mere stroke of creativity. And sure, there had been two kisses, but Fred was old enough to know that lust or reacting in the heat of the moment did not equate to romance or anything even close to love. It definitely didn’t help that he sent Daphne murky, vague signs after both kisses, either…

“I – I don’t think I’ve been the best at showing her that I love her, either,” Fred laments, staring at his shoe dismally. “How am I supposed to show it now? I think I’m too late.”

“I have a feeling you’ll think of something,” Elma smiles affectionately. “The right moment will present itself sooner or later, but you have to be bold enough to take it and show her for real this time; no wavering and acting funny on her afterwards, like with your post- _Talent Star_ kiss.”

Fred opens his mouth to thank Elma for the advice just as Jordie interrupts, “Hey you two, are we ready to practice? We have a lot of ground to cover if Elma is going to be replacing Daphne!”

Elma turns to wink at Fred slyly, as if to say, “Here we go!”

“Ah, yeah, we’re ready, Jordie and Sid!” Fred yelps back.

Velma and Shaggy are standing conspicuously close to Sid and Jordie, and Fred pictures the two nets concealed behind the tree closest to the stage, which are ready to be tossed onto the Goose Lake Monster at a minute’s notice. Out of the corner of his eye, Fred clocks Scooby lobbing him a thumbs-up. _It’s show time._

A smattering of half-hearted applause balloons in the air as Elma taps the microphone and speaks into it, loudly and animatedly, a stark contrast to the soft and melodious way Daphne speaks. As she introduces herself (as Daphne) and then gestures to Fred when she mentions his name, the only sound Fred can hear is his heartbeat, drumming in his ears so loudly that he’s sure his friends and Jordie and Sid can hear it being detected by the microphone. Once Elma introduces their first song, “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” Fred inhales through his nose, steadying himself, as Elma transiently shoots him an indecipherable glance. It reminds Fred of the way Daphne would stare into his eyes when they sang, and thinking of her slows his heart rate, making it beat a different rhythm. Remembering Daphne makes him aware of why they are staging this trap, and as Fred begins playing it’s as though someone takes over his own body, a spirit with revived vigor and a fiery passion that guides him as he strums the guitar and supplies the back-up vocals while Elma (unsurprisingly) sings like a rock star. Fred keeps his eyes forward the entire time, his gaze locked on Shaggy, Velma, Sid, and Jordie, but his peripheral vision is constantly roving, glancing at the trees and the woods for any sudden movement.

The first song ends before Fred fully comprehends it. One minute he is aware of his voice and the guitar echoing across Goose Lake, and the next he bangs the final notes out on his guitar, the last notes decaying into silence before it’s met with polite applause. Fred chances a silent exchange with Shaggy and Velma, his eyes wide, as if pondering aloud the whereabouts of the Goose Lake Monster. Velma smiles back smugly, and he can practically hear her say, “Trust me, I know it’s coming.”

“Wow, I have to admit, you guys sound great together!” Jordie beams, and it’s an open, honest smile, perhaps the most authentic one Fred has seen since Erica was taken into custody. “I have to admit that I was worried at first, but now that I’m seeing it, I really think this could work!”

“I don’t think the Goose Lake Monster will be, like, too thrilled about this, though,” Sid mutters.

“Well, that’s exactly what we’re counting on, Sid.” Fred stares straight into Sid’s eyes as he says this, fully aware that Sid doesn’t realize the heavy significance of this weighty remark.

“I think you guys should play your next song!” Velma cheers, attempting to keep the plan on track. As prompted, Elma introduces the next song, an acoustic rendition of “Come As You Are,” and as Fred plays the first few watery notes, he tries not to drown in the memory of selecting this song with Daphne just two nights ago (was it really only 48 hours ago? How was that even possible?!) and the way Daphne had avidly explained her interpretation of the lyrics. Instead of focusing on the sugary sweet memory, Fred thinks of his fingers gliding over the guitar, reminding himself to stay focused for Daphne; the sooner they lure this monster out, the sooner he can have her back by his side again, safe and sound. And just as Elma nears the end of the song, Fred begins to wonder if the Goose Lake Monster is even going to be bothered with making an appearance when he sees tendrils of smoke that suddenly wisp around his ankles.

“Velma, the fan!” Fred barks into the microphone. _This is it; there’s no stopping now_.

Everything comes to a screeching halt as Velma sprints towards the cordless fan, triggering the switch to shred the little bit of smoke that’s slowly thickening and spreading across the stage and the lawn. Sid and Jordie are red-faced with panic, and everyone’s heads swivel, attempting to locate the Goose Lake Monster.

“Like, what’s going on?!” Sid demands, the confusion shot through in his voice.

Before anyone can respond, a deafening shriek ripples through the air, and everyone simultaneously faces the right side of the stage, where the Goose Lake Monster is stealthily lumbering towards the staircase. In spite of what he knows, Fred can’t help but gulp at the razor like teeth and the sharp, pointed nails and the reptilian green scales that glimmer in the sun. He reminds himself to stay rooted on stage, exactly where he is standing, and he mentally begs the creature to step towards the hole.

“You like, have done it now!” Sid screeches. “He’s mad you’re, like, going through with the show! You need to run!”

To her credit, although Elma’s face is wan with fear, she too remembers her role as bait and remains frozen; unless it’s just her acting skills truly shining through, she genuinely looks as though she is entranced by the Goose Lake Monster and its webbed feet and hands and its fiery crimson eyes, and is too horrified to even consider running.

A pensive stillness descends upon the campground as Fred listens to the gurgling of the monster and the hushed humming of the insects in the trees that surrounded Goose Lake like an embrace, and in those muted moments, Fred swears time stops and ceases the motion of the world: the orbit of the Earth, the rivers and their slow, lazy march to the seas, and even the blood in every human vein. The world pauses and leans forward with baited breath alongside Mystery Incorporated as the creature screams again, and thankfully, mercifully, it takes two monster sized leaps forward and lands unknowingly on the hole Fred and his friends have dug, causing the land to crumble away instantly as the creature emits one final, desperate cry, plummeting into the ground anti-climactically, with little fanfare and resistance.

“Velma, Shaggy, the net!” Fred instructs, but they’re already on it; they’re rushing towards the hole and in an instant they drop the net below, ensnaring the Goose Lake Monster once and for all. Instantly, cheers and yelps spear the air; Scooby bounds from behind his hiding place, the back-up plan no longer necessary, and he, Jordie, and Sid rush over to stand beside the mouth of the gaping hole in the ground alongside Velma and Shaggy.

“Wow, that sure went well!” Elma chirps, looking back at Fred with a smile. Something about her remark shoots anxiety through Fred’s chest like two silver bullets.

“Yeah,” he thinks slowly. “That was a little _too_ easy…”

Already Velma has lowered a rope into the ground, which the monster grips so she, Shaggy, Sid, and Jordie can reel the creature up out of the ground for the ceremonious unmasking. Fred leans his guitar against the case and turns to meet his friends when he notices the nervous way Sid is peaking around worriedly, as though he is a bug about to be squished beneath someone’s shoe. And just as the monster is safely out of the hole, something clicks in Fred’s head, and the glaring realization knocks into him so roughly he feels as though he could collapse onto the ground.

“Velma, Shaggy, Scooby, wait! Look out for –“

But it’s too late; in a flash, Sid whisks the net off of the monster, and the two of them push a perplexed and stunned Velma into the bottom of the pit. Scooby and Shaggy blink, and before they can even have the chance to run and hide, Sid and the monster are bulldozing the two frightened friends and Jordie into the pit next, pausing only to snatch up the net that had originally trapped the Goose Lake Monster so they can drop it into the ground.

“LIKE, SOMEONE HELP US!” Shaggy cries, his screams sounding faraway. “It’s like, cold and dirty down here!”

“Hey, we’ve been double-crossed!” Velma realizes, her voice climbing a few octaves with hurt and panic.

Fred’s jaw clenches as he glares at Sid and the monster.

“Sid, how could you?!” Fred demands, his voice shrill with rage. “We trusted you, and you betrayed not only us, but Jordie and Erica, who are your best friends, as well!”

“Yeah, and what do you have to say for yourself too, Elliott?!” Elma barks accusingly.

Sid and the Goose Lake Monster cackle together, and the laugh causes goosebumps to slither over Fred’s skin, as though an actual snake has crawled over his arm; he’s never heard a more terrifying laugh in all his years of solving mysteries.

“Well, like, I suppose it’s all blown wide open now, huh Elliott?” Sid sneers.

Fred watches, fascinated, as the creature reaches up and yanks its mask off to reveal the same conclusion Mystery Incorporated stare down at the end of each mystery: a tiny, pathetic person hiding in a costume. _Elliott_.

“Wow, I guess you guys are as good as you say you are with this mystery solving stuff, huh?” Elliott snickers, eyeing Elma and Fred contemptuously. “Only clearly you aren’t as good as you think you all are, because you got the wrong criminal arrested, you let your friend get kidnapped, and you succumbed to your own trap all in the span of only twelve hours! That’s impressive; it’s gotta win the award for biggest screw-up somehow.”

When Elliott alludes to Daphne, the rage shoots through Fred’s veins, and he feels as though the blood churning in his veins has been replaced with lava, blinding him with white-hot anger.

“What the hell did you do to Daphne?!” Fred commands. He’s so upset that he is shaking, his fists ready to fly at Elliott and Sid.

“Aww, poor Freddy,” Elliott mimics wiping tears from his cheeks. “What’s wrong, are you upset we took your little girlfriend? Oh wait, that’s right; she never was your girlfriend, because you were too gutless to ever do anything about it!”

“Yeah, and your little lover’s spat is, like, what got her taken from you, isn’t it?” Sid jeers. “Thanks for makin’ that easy on us, man; we gotta admit, we thought we had the show stopped for good once she was outta the picture.”

“Yeah, I guess we should have known that this was all a set-up,” Elliott laments. “Why would Freddy Jones here have wanted to go on without Daphne? I admit, you almost got us there, but you didn’t count on being double-crossed by Sid, did you?”

Fred is speechless; even though he and the gang had anticipated that the monster was Elliott after everything they had found in his office, it’s still tough to process. Everything had indicated that this would wrap up neat and tidy after they had raided Elliott’s office and discovered the newspaper article of all the artists who were vastly successful after a disappearance or a death. The gang realized that this pointed towards a publicity stunt intended on raising Elliott’s hurting record sales, which he and Sid were transparent about since the gang had arrived to Goose Lake. That was also underscored by the original concert flyer, which advertised a slew of popular artists that vastly overshadowed Elliott; obviously, people would be way more interested in the likes of The 1975 and Artic Monkeys, so how would Elliott be able to compete with those musical titans? Thus, the Goose Lake Monster had seemingly been conceived, scaring off not only locals, but all of the mainstream bands, who declined in favor of safer bookings. That left only Elliott, but disappointingly, his record sales remained stagnant, in spite of the fact that he was the Goose Lake Concert’s headlining act after everyone bailed. He knew he had to do something dramatic to raise his popularity, and so he concocted his own disappearance at the hands of the terrifying Goose Lake Monster. Once sales skyrocketed after his disappearance, Elliott would have returned, claiming to have defeated the Goose Lake Monster, which would have bolstered his sales and made him a “hero” for reviving and saving Goose Lake Campgrounds.

“And I think it would have worked,” Velma reasoned in Elliott’s office, after it had become apparent that Elliott was the Goose Lake Monster. “But when we came into town and Fred and Daphne offered to play the show, they garnered a lot of attention since they were hot off their _Talent Star_ win. So even though Elliott was missing, Fred and Daphne threw a wrench in that plan, and that’s why he’s been attacking them since they announced their intent to play the show; their music sales and downloads have managed to eclipse his since they’re in the concert now. The only thing I can’t figure is how he faked his own kidnapping.”

“Like, maybe the monster was a robot the first time?” Shaggy had offered helpfully.

“Maybe,” Velma shrugged. “Well, we’ll find that out once we trap Elliott; I do have a few theories, but I have a feeling time will tell all!”

Well, time had certainly revealed the answers, but Sid’s involvement was a twist that none of them had foreshadowed, even though in hindsight it now made sense to Fred considering the fact that Sid was Elliott’s manager; Sid’s success as a manager hinged upon Elliott’s sales, so of course the two would do whatever it took to catapult Elliott to fame. Velma must have had an inkling of Sid’s contributions, or otherwise she wouldn’t have insisted on keeping Jordie and Sid in the dark about this trap. However, surely even she hadn’t foreseen it to this extent, or she would have proposed a double trap to secure Sid, as well.

“So now what do you plan to do?” Fred’s vocal chords loosened enough for him to speak. He keeps his eyes trained on Sid and Elliott, who’s transformation was as sudden as the flick of a light switch; the warm, jovial smile on Sid’s face is replaced with hard eyes and a clenched fist and a set, firm jaw. Elliott looks similarly sinister, with a scowl which resembles a dictator’s that Fred treats with extreme wariness; he’s also still wearing the bottom portion of his costume, giving off the appearance of a half-main, half-reptile like creature. “It’s over now; even though you have our friends trapped, we’ve exposed you all.”

“Yeah, this is the end of the line for you losers,” Elma snarls.

Elliott and Sid laugh at Fred and Elma’s bravado.

“Oh, that’s what you think,” Elliott chortles. “With your friends down here in a net, that means we can still take you both down and take care of you so that the show goes on without ‘Fraphne.’ After I dispose of you all, I will make a miraculous return from my kidnapping and save the day by putting on a show, thus emerging with record high sales, as I had always intended.”

“The story will be, like, especially sweet because he’ll be the only one to survive a Goose Lake Monster kidnapping,” Sid winks.

When Sid says this, something serpentine blazes through Fred.

“The only one to survive a Goose Lake Monster kidnapping?” Fred parrots. “So that means you’re intending to…” His voice ceases at the realization, his heart slamming into his ribcage.

“Wow, and I thought it was Velma who was the brains of the group,” Elliott throws his head back and laughs. “Yup, we’re going to have to, shall we say, ‘take care of’ you all. You’ve obviously figured out what my plan is now, and if we keep you hidden somewhere for a weekend and then let you go after the show ends, you’ll just tell that mean old Officer Bradford about what we did to you, and reveal our brilliant plan; it’s easier if you’re all out of the picture so you can’t come back and ruin my career before it even gets started.”

“Yeah, you guys can like, swim with your hands tied, right?” Sid raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I hear Goose Lake, is like, really lovely during the hot summer afternoon.”

Fred’s mouth tastes like rust as Sid and Elliott wind around the hole and jump onto the staircase that ascends to the stage, where Elma and Fred still stand, near the microphones and – _the back-up net_. It’s still hanging above Fred and Elma, ready to be used in case of an emergency, and it’s their only chance at catching Sid and Elliott and stopping them both immediately.

Fred touches Elma’s elbow, and she looks at him inquisitively, eyeing Sid and Elliott out of the corner of her eye as they move towards her.

“Stay here and lure them,” Fred hisses. His eyes flicker, briefly, towards the net that still dangles above him and Elma, and he sees her lips curl only slightly before she turns back to Elliott and Sid.

“You two will never win!” Elma shrieks. “You may have Fred and I trapped, but I promise you, this won’t be the end of it!”

“Oh sweetheart, it is unfortunate you had to be caught up in all of this, but that’s just how it goes sometimes,” Elliott shrugs. He and Sid are on the stage now, and the four are staring off like war generals preparing for a fatal battle.

And then in an instant Elliott and Sid surge towards Elma and Fred, and everything is a blur of color and sound and adrenaline. Elma stays rooted where she is, brave and fierce as a dying soldier, as Fred dashes towards the lever to release the net that Scooby had originally been instructed to ignite in case the original plan hadn’t worked. Fred reaches the lever in three giant bounds and doesn’t hesitate to pull it. He hears the net fall with a _whooshing_ sound through the air and land with a satisfying _thud_ , and the sound of people collapsing onto the stage is probably the most beautiful sound Fred heard in his entire life.

“Ha! We got you guys, Sid and Elliott – “ Fred swivels to face them, pausing to double-take at the lumpy net, which contains not Sid and Elliott as he had expected, but a panic-stricken Elma.

“Fred,” Elma moans. “You got the wrong person!”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Fred murmurs as Sid and Elliott bend over with laughter, as though they’ve just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Wow, you’re not even good at trapping, either!” Elliott guffaws, the tears streaming down his cheek as he eyes Elma hungrily.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m great with traps!” Fred yelps, stung by the insult; he has never had anyone question his trap-making skills until now, and it’s not a great feeling, in spite of everything else unfurling at the moment. “I mean, technically the traps worked, just not – oh, that’s beside the point right now!”

Elliott and Sid are drawing closer to Fred now, and they remind Fred of lions cornering their prey, which is especially applicable right now considering he has no other trap to fall back on and no means to escape or save his friends. He takes a tentative step backwards and stumbles; it must be the nerves and the impending sense of doom, but Fred feels as though he is trying to walk on a ship that’s being tossed around in the middle of a sea during a storm. Fred takes another trembling step backward and this time his ankles betray him, causing him to fall onto the ground. Elliott and Sid are only a few feet away from him now, and there’s no way he can fight off both of them at once. His brain is scrambling, scurrying to cobble together some sort of offense when a familiar voice jolts him, electrifying him like lightning.

“Don’t you dare take another step towards him.”

Elliott, Sid, and Fred all spin towards Daphne, who now stands behind Sid and Elliott, a black stun gun in her hands. Instantly, Fred is paradoxically relieved and terrified, his heartbeat pounding in his ears louder than a blood-curdling scream.

“WHAT!?” Elliott hollers, his face incredulous at the sight of Daphne. “Sid, I thought you tied this girl up real good and left her in the Goose Lake Office basement!”

“I, uh, did,” Sid stammers, obviously more flustered than Elliott.

“Yeah, he did tie me up, but it wasn’t good enough to keep me down,” Daphne raises her eyebrow, and in spite of the peril and danger Fred is in, he thinks there’s something so sexy about the confidence and cockiness radiating from her right now. “I’ve been bound and gagged plenty of times before, so I’m pretty used to figuring out how to save myself, thank you very much!”

“Jesus Christ, and she’s got a stun gun,” Elliott bemoans, his eyes rolling in his head at the sight of the weapon.

“That’s, like, the same one Erica and Jordie had me buy for our office,” Sid whispers. “After the Goose Lake Monster started attackin’, they like, felt unsafe…”

“Wow, no shit, Sid!” Elliott bellows. “I told ya buying that thing was a bad idea! Now look what you’ve done!”

In spite of the situation, Fred finds himself sniggering at the irony of it all, a lightness filtering through his body at the sight of Sid and Elliott coming unglued before him, but Daphne remains stone-faced, focusing on the danger in front of her.

“Step away from Fred,” she repeats. “And it’s a demand, not a suggestion!”

“Oh yeah, and what are you going to do about it, princess?” Elliott snarls.

The air is tense, charged, like the humid, oppressive moments just before a thunderstorm, and Fred suddenly has a new appreciation for the phrase, “the calm before the storm.” One second Sid, Elliott, and Daphne are staring each other in the eye, their breathing labored and heavy, as though they’ve just run a marathon, and the next, there’s a blur of movement, and Fred’s helpless to it all as he slowly clambers back to his feet. In less than ten seconds, Daphne hurtles herself towards Sid and pulls the trigger on the stun gun, causing Sid’s body to convulse and fall onto the stage, where he lands with a thud, still and heavy as a log. With Sid no longer a threat, Daphne swivels towards Elliott, but before she can even aim the stun gun at him next, Elliott sweeps out a long, gangly leg and trips Daphne, spilling her onto her back and causing her head to bounce onto the stage with a sickening _SMACK_ , the stun gun clattering somewhere in the distance. Daphne’s head pounding into the ground is enough to propel Fred forward, the adrenaline surging through his veins as his vision spots with red flashes, but before Fred reaches her Elliott pulls his leg back and kicks Daphne in the side, causing her to scream out and retreat into herself as the pain wracks her body.

“You fucking bitch,” Elliott scoffs. “You’re going to regret – OOOF.”

Fred spears his body into Elliott, which sends both men flying onto the hard stage floor. Before Elliott can recover, Fred straddles his torso and lobs Elliott in the face, three times, and even through a sheet of tears Fred can already tell he’s broken Elliott’s nose based on the blood gushing down his nostrils.

“You bastard,” Fred cries; he is so livid that he is shaking, his anger causing him to throw punches on autopilot. In all their years of mystery solving, no one has ever laid their hands on Daphne like Elliott has, and Fred wants Elliott to regret this until the day he dies. “How dare you hurt her!”

Fred throws one final punch for good measure, to underscore his point, and Elliott groans, unmoving. For a moment Fred considers doing it again, but there’s no point in that; he has to make sure Daphne is okay, release Elma, who has been screeching and crying from her spot underneath the net, and somehow manage to help his friends out of the hole offstage before Sid or Elliott awaken.

Fred wrenches himself off of Elliott, who gradually remains still, and Fred moves towards Daphne, who is still curled into a ball after Elliott’s kick. Fred’s heart is still, and he tries not to allow any dark thoughts to consume him as he drops next to Daphne and scoops her into his arms.

“Daph,” Fred says gently. “It’s okay, I have you now, and I’m not – “

He’s cut off by Daphne, who’s eyes flutter open as she flings her arms around his neck and pulls him in for an embrace, tight, tighter than she’s ever hugged him before, as though she can’t get close enough to his body. Startled, Fred freezes, but it only takes him a second to wrap his arms around her and pull her in for an embrace just as secure, and for a moment it’s just him and Daphne holding each other as everything falls away: Goose Lake, the woods, the stifling, Michigan summer afternoon, even Sid and Elliott groaning in pain nearby. She’s crying now, her salty tears soaking Fred’s shoulder, but he doesn’t care because he’s just so damn relieved to have her back again, safe inside his arms. Slowly, one of his hands begins to caress Daphne’s hair, moving through her wavy red hair, and it soothes Daphne a bit as the storm inside of her subsides, and her sobs lessen and cease altogether after just a few minutes.

And then all at once Fred’s senses crash into him violently when he hears footsteps thumping towards him slowly and the clicking of a trigger.

Fred and Daphne both untangle from each other, but Fred remains kneeling on stage with Daphne in his arms as they both turn their attention to Elliott, who has not only managed to scrape himself off the stage, but has also collected the stun gun Daphne dropped and is now smacking it lightly against his thigh as he strides towards Fred and Daphne resolutely, a malevolent glimmer in his eye. Fred feels Daphne’s heart flutter against his chest, and he instinctively pulls her closer to him, berating himself for not fleeing with her when he had a chance.

“So, it starts with Fred and Daphne, and now it ends with Fred and Daphne,” Elliott wheezes, wiping his hand across his face, which only smears the blood even more, but it doesn’t rattle him or stall his pace. “You two have been a pain in my ass since you got here. If you guys had never shown up, my music sales would have gone sky-high after my ‘disappearance,’ and I could have come out of hiding and claimed to have slayed the Goose Lake Monster all by myself, and then I could have driven off into the sunset with my fame and my record sales. But no, ‘Fraphne’ had to come along and offer to help solve the mystery, and then steal my chance at fame by passing me up in record sales and YouTube hits.”

“Elliott,” Fred manages to sputter. “If your music had been good enough in the first place, maybe you wouldn’t have needed to resort to this. Did you ever think about that?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Elliott taunts, pinning Fred underneath an intense glare. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret! I’m tired of you two lovebirds acting so holier than thou and claiming the spotlight for yourselves. You took away my happily ever after, and now, I’m going to take away yours.”

At this point Elliot towers above Fred and Daphne now, and Daphne whimpers, pressing her face into Fred’s chest and squeezing her eyes shut as Fred buries his face in her hair, inhaling her apricot scented shampoo for seemingly the final time.

“Fred and Daphne,” Elliott speaks slowly. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, _Fraphne_. Got any final words?”

Fred’s heart pulsates with courage, and he opens his eyes to stare at Daphne shivering in his arms. “ _Maybe this is that moment Elma was talking about earlier. If you’re both about to die, at least send her off with this, the one thing you’ve kept tucked against your heart for far too long; after all, you’re dancing with death and you have nothing to fear now. And if you have to go, at least make sure you don’t die with your love for her curled up tight inside of you.”_

“Daphne,” Fred whispers, his mouth grazing her ear, and for the first time she’s still, hanging on his every word. “I just wanted to say that I –“

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR AND FREEZE!”

Officer Bradford’s baritone voice booms across Goose Lake, slicing through the thick tension and causing Elliott to flinch, his arms flying up into the air as the stun gun falls onto the stage. Fred and Daphne whip their heads towards Bradford, who is now stationed in front of the stage with eight officers flanking his side, each one training a gun aimed directly at Elliott.

“Shit,” Elliott spits. “Lucky for you guys that the cops got here.” Wisely, Elliott remains where he is, frozen, as four officers rush towards him and bind him in handcuffs while four other officers hoist a disheveled Sid onto his feet and latch silver handcuffs firmly onto his wrists, and in an instant they’re moving the two villains off stage as Officer Bradford smiles like a man who has just won the lottery.

“DADDY!” Erica screeches, jumping out the backseat of a police car and tearing towards the hole in the ground, where two officers have already dropped a rope to those who are trapped below. “Oh my gosh, are you all right, Daddy?!”

“What – what’s going on?” Daphne whispers, as though she’s afraid that by being too loud, she’ll cause the officers to leave and force the scene before her to crumble into dust.

“Are you two okay?” Bradford asks kindly, offering a hand to Fred, who is still cradling Daphne in his arms. Fred grips the man’s hand and allows him to pull them both up, but he doesn’t put Daphne down; he only just got her back, and he isn’t ready to let her go yet.

“How did you guys know we were in danger?” Fred asks, bewildered, watching as the officers pull Shaggy and then Velma and Scooby out of the hole. When Jordie emerges last, he and Erica both unleash a sob that sounds both pained and relieved, and their embrace shudders with the sobs that ripple through their bodies.

“We didn’t know, actually,” Bradford confesses. “What happened is that we had no proof on Erica’s phone connected to that camera you guys found in the hotel room; it came back totally clean. I was bringing her back to the campground since she was released from police custody, and when we pulled up I saw the scene from a distance and called for back-up once I noticed you and Elliott scuffling on stage. The other boys came to help me out, and we infiltrated the scene as quietly as we could so that Elliott didn’t hurt you all, and now we’ve got ‘em. You folks shouldn’t have anymore troubles with the so-called Goose Lake Monster after this.”

Bradford lumbers off, ordering his officers to lead Sid and Elliott towards two police cars stationed closest to the stage before he turns his attention to Elma, who is still trapped in her net, and Fred watches, speechless, as the mystery unravels like the frayed ends of a yarn right before his eyes. He almost forgets that he’s still holding Daphne before she lightly taps his shoulder, jolting him back to his senses.

“Oh, ah, sorry Daph!” he says hastily, helping her onto her feet. “Are you okay? That spill you took on the stage was really nasty, and I was – “

Daphne cuts Fred off abruptly, hurling herself into his arms for one more embrace, pressing her tear-stained cheek onto his, saying nothing and everything all at once. Fred doesn’t hesitate to pull her against him, hesitating only slightly when he swears he hears Daphne open her mouth to speak before she apparently stops herself short. And then before he realizes it, Daphne stands on her toes, placing both of her hands on Fred’s face, and she pulls him down to her, and the only thing Fred is aware of is the salt on her lips from her tears, and the sensation that swept through him of a sort of sweet surrender, or a dizzying fall off a great height from which Fred would never hit the ground.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: After this chapter, we only have two chapters that remain! I just wanted to say a sincere thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, commented, and/or followed along silently. Every review has felt like a warm hug, and I'm honestly so pleased that so many people have been enjoying this, especially since I have truly enjoyed writing this. As always, review and leave kudos if you feel inclined, and be on the look-out for the final two chapters, which I aim to upload by the end of this month! - iamacliche

**Chapter 16**

_It was all over, more or less. After Officer Bradford herded Sid and Elliott into the back of a police car and everyone watched as the villains were whisked to Goose Lake's jail, Bradford lumbered towards Jordie, Erica, Elma, and Mystery Incorporated, who were exchanging hugs and exclamations ("I'm so happy you're safe!" or "Daphne, I'm so glad you're all right!") so he could speak to the gang._

_"Well, I'm sure glad this whole thing clears up any suspicion you all originally had towards me when this whole mess started," Officer Bradford chuckled good-naturedly, and Fred couldn't help but squirm; it was silly of them to ever believe Bradford was the one who was behind it all simply because he was never around when the ghost appeared, and now that Bradford had saved him and Daphne from Elliott, the guilt singed Fred, coloring his cheeks a deep crimson red._

_"Yeah, we really are sorry about that," Daphne murmured softly, her eyes struggling to connect with Bradford's; apparently, she felt just as much remorse as Fred. "If it helps, it was never anything personal."_

_"Believe me, I'm a cop, so I definitely understand that," Bradford smiled, and for the first time Fred thought that maybe the police officer wasn't as malicious as he had originally thought. "Now, why don't you kids tell me everything you know about this mystery?"_

_Velma explained how it all began when Elliott and Sid scared off the other bands disguised as the Goose Lake Monster in the hopes of promoting Elliott as the sole performer for the show in an attempt to boost his record sales, which were notoriously struggling, and she reiterated how Daphne and Fred had thwarted that plan with their arrival. Once it became apparent that Daphne and Fred would overshadow Elliott since they were fresh off their Talent Star win, Elliott faked his own kidnapping._

_"Like, I still don't get how he did that," Shaggy interrupted._

_"One word, Shaggy: Sid," Velma smirked. "Remember when Elliott sent Sid out for a snack run when his dress rehearsal began? Well, Sid was actually leaving so he could put on the costume and kidnap Elliott."_

_"And I have to give Elliott credit for that, because that was actually really smart," Fred said. "His sales did skyrocket briefly after Sid announced Elliott's kidnapping, and it stopped us from even considering Elliott as the Goose Lake Monster because he had been kidnapped right before our very eyes."_

_"Well, we could have had him sooner had we made sense of the 'cords' cloth that Sid dropped after the kidnapping," Daphne lamented. "That cloth was from the shirt Elliott showed us when we arrived, which advertised Sid's record label. Sid must have somehow dropped it when he kidnapped Elliott."_

_"That makes sense, but I have a couple more questions for ya," Bradford interjected. "How did Elliott trigger the smoke every time? And some of the campers took photos of the monster emerging in and out of Goose Lake, so how did he swim and escape so easily?"_

_"I can answer that!" Velma beamed. She pointed towards the stage and added, "The smoke was from a fog machine that was concealed underneath the stage. Since Elliott is a musician, it's a prop he used for some of his concerts, so he would just turn that on before every monster attack in hopes of discombobulating us. And the fact that the monster could swim was because Elliott wore a diving suit underneath his costume; it allowed him to breathe underwater for long periods of time, and he would slip away undetected after attacking visitors at the camp ground."_

_"The ultimate curveball was framing Erica though," Daphne stated, smiling apologetically at Erica, who's face was blotchy from crying. Ever since reuniting with her father, Jordie had his arm wrapped around Erica's shoulder, as though his daughter would float away if she remained untethered. "Sid had installed a camera in the boys' hotel room to keep an eye on us as we solved the mystery, and once Velma discovered it hidden in the painting, Sid panicked when he figured out that we were closing in on discovering the real identity of the ghost, since we had warned them that we had suspicions it was Erica, Jordie, or Sid at that point."_

_"Sid did some quick thinking, and he realized that he could use Erica's obsession with 'Fraphne' to his advantage," Velma added, and Fred tried to ignore the rush of heat that tinged his cheeks pink. "He planted the box the camera came in within Erica's car, which furthered the narrative that Erica was a crazed fan who would do anything to see Fraphne – even dress up as a Goose Lake Monster to lure her favorite detectives here so she could meet them."_

_"But apparently even that wasn't enough, because then Elliott kidnapped me and tied me up in the Goose Lake Campground basement," Daphne huffed. "I think he and Sid thought that it would guarantee the show would go on without Fred and I once I was removed."_

_"And they would have been correct, if we hadn't discovered everything inside Elliott's office," Fred exclaimed. "The newspaper articles, the flyer, and the 'Vicious Records' shirt Elma returned to us were all the damning evidence we needed in wrapping up this mystery and proving once and for all that Elliott was behind all of this as a publicity stunt. Sid being in on it was a twist I didn't foresee, but at least it all worked out in the end."_

_"I did have a suspicion that perhaps Elliott was receiving help, actually," Velma stated. "It's why I asked that we keep it a secret that Elma was luring the monster into a trap; I didn't want Jordie or Sid to realize what we were up to in case it was one of them assisting Elliott. But if I had ever suspected Sid to turn violent the way he did, I would have planned more accordingly."_

_"Well, thank goodness you all arrived when you did, Officer Bradford, or we would have been toast," Daphne gulped, and everyone was silent as the implication of her words fell to the ground, heavy as lead._

_"Ah, it's you kids I should be thanking!" Officer Bradford trilled. "This case has been stressing out me and my men since the monster appeared a few weeks ago, and now we can finally put it to bed. You have my sincerest thanks for your assistance in capturing the so-called 'monster,' and Jordie, you still have my word that we'll help you with security for the concert tomorrow; I imagine you'll rest a lot easier now knowing this monster business is officially over!"_

_Tomorrow. Fred nearly choked on the word, as though it were an ice cube he tried swallowing that remained lodged in his throat. He had been so wrapped up in solving the mystery that he hadn't fully comprehended that he was scheduled to perform so soon. To make matters worse, the last time he and Daphne spoke, right before she was kidnapped, she had demanded to perform solo after overhearing everything he said to Erica. So where did they stand now? Daphne hadn't seemed opposed to Fred moments ago, most noticeably when she kissed him (again!), but what if it was an "I'm happy to be alive" kind of kiss and not an "I'm so in love with you" kind of kiss? The former definitely seemed most likely considering the circumstances; even now, although Daphne wasn't actively avoiding Fred, she wasn't directly engaging with him, either. She hadn't spoken to him individually since she kissed him after Elliott had been arrested, and as Officer Bradford dismissed the gang, she was already moving away from Fred to speak with Elma, complimenting her on the "Daphne cosplay." These were all questions that tumbled precariously in Fred's mind, and he didn't dare vocalize a single one; it was all too daunting to dwell upon, and to Fred, it almost seemed easier not knowing than dealing with the crushing melancholy that oppressed him if he received the answer and it wasn't what he wanted to hear._

_Instead of pursuing it further,_ _Fred watched as his friends spoke animatedly with each other; the celebratory scene before him reminded him of lilies or roses slowly bursting open after a long, tumultuous winter. Shaggy and Scooby were sharing a box of Scooby Snacks that Velma had produced as Daphne laughed about something with Erica and Jordie; the jovial mood blanketed Goose Lake and enfolded Fred like a warm embrace, and yet, he couldn't help but feel incomplete, as though some fundamental part of himself was missing. It could have been the lack of sleep; he had a rough two nights, and he felt like an undercharged battery as he suddenly realized how mentally and physically exhausted he was now that the culprits were captured. Fred tumbled and staggered along with his thoughts, so he was preoccupied and didn't immediately notice the tap on his shoulder until Elma said, "Fred? Is everything cool, man?"_

_Fred whirled around and came face-to-face with Elma, who was still dressed as Daphne's doppelgänger, causing Fred to do a double-take. Elma must have noted the panic splashed on Fred's face, because she laughed and patted his arm reassuringly._

_"Hey man, I'm about to take off so I can head back to my place and finish packing, but I just wanted to say that I decided to extend my stay for another night before I move back to California so I can watch you and Daphne perform in the concert," Elma smiled. "If you guys need any help with hair and make-up before the show, then I'm your girl!"_

_"Oh wow, that's great news, Elma!" Fred replied sincerely. Elma had been another person the gang had fleetingly suspected in this mystery, and he was grateful that she ended up being an ally; if she hadn't agreed to help stage a rehearsal, then maybe Elliott wouldn't have shown up, and maybe Daphne would have remained missing. It was a thought Fred didn't want to consider for even just one second. "And seriously, thanks again for all your help today; we really couldn't have pulled this off without you."_

_Elma swatted her hand, as though literally waving off Fred's gesture. "Oh please, it was my privilege to help!" Elma chirped. "I'm just happy we got a happy ending out of it all."_

_Fred grimaced as Elma's words rippled through him, careening inside of him like a bullet._

_"What, you would call this a happy ending, right?" Elma asked warily, raising an eyebrow inquisitively._

_"Well…" Fred began, his gaze trailing over to Daphne. Elma clocked Fred staring at Daphne and smiled knowingly, as though she knew a secret to which he wasn't privy._

_"Hey," Elma knocked her shoulder against Fred playfully. "Remember what I said, all right? Show her that you love her."_

_"Yeah, but how am I supposed to do that?" Fred asked; he still had no idea how he was supposed to convey everything he had kept bottled within him and tied so close to his heart for all these years._

_"Don't worry; I have a feeling you'll think of the perfect way to show her how you really feel," Elma winked conspiratorially before slinking away, leaving behind a bewildered Fred._

* * *

That was all hours ago, and now Fred finds himself exactly where he was two nights ago: stretched out flat on his back in his hotel bed, staring at the spider web-like cracks in the ceiling as Shaggy and Scooby sleep peacefully in the other bed, their snores reverberating steadily (once again) throughout the hotel room. Initially, exhaustion gripped Fred in a chokehold, and he thought he would fall asleep before his head even hit his pillow, but the second he cocoons himself underneath the sheets, images from the past week flash before him as Elma's words consume him, flickering against his nerves like moth's wings. The minutes march forward resolutely, paying no mind to Fred's inner turmoil and the fact that he is playing a concert tomorrow, and even still, Fred's thoughts ricochet inside his head, tormenting him endlessly.

 _Our lives keep evolving, through hope and despair_.

This past week has not gone the way Fred had planned. Okay, scratch that; the past several months haven't gone the way he planned. When he agreed to perform on _Talent Star_ with Daphne, it was his sneaky way of hoping to spend more time with her, and it actually worked; they stole hours together practicing, and of course, writing their own original song. They flew to Hollywood together to audition, and they spent weeks slashing through the competition, squeezing each other's hands on stage when the latest rounds of eliminations were rattled off, and they collapsed giddily into each other's arms every time they were survived another week. And finally, finally, they had made the trip to Chicago for the final round, and it all culminated in a moment that was so perfect, it might as well have been written in a romance novel; not only did Daphne surprise Fred with song lyrics in a tie-breaking round, but they put an exclamation mark on it with a kiss; a real, Earth-shattering, kiss. And it should have ended with Fred and Daphne walking away hand-in-hand, so what happened?

 _I can take all the changes, knowing you're there_.

The answer was difficult, almost painful to stare at directly, like gazing straight into the sun, but it was also glaringly obvious; Fred had second guessed himself every step of the way. The other night, when he had stumbled upon ScoobyDoobydoo's comment on DeviantArt, it had enraged him, causing his pulse to roar in his ears and turning his heart into a wild animal: _"Does anyone else get the sense that this is as far as Fred and Daphne will ever take things? Or worse yet, maybe it was all for show?"_ Up until now Fred had wielded that comment like a sword, brandishing it whenever he had the chance to confess his feelings for Daphne, or whenever Erica or Shaggy or Elma insisted he speak with Daphne. He had allowed that comment to fester and seethe inside of him, eroding his insides as though something bitter corroded his bones and his veins and his beating heart, and he had allowed that comment to stop him from confessing everything to Daphne. And for a while, Fred believed the comment parroted the truth, which was that whatever they shared wasn't a fiery, smoldering romance, but rather just a spark that never had a chance to burn. But what if the real reason that remark online stung him was because it implied Fred was half the reason they weren't together, and the reality was that Fred was his own road block, standing in the way of his own happiness?

 _We're like the rivers, that join at the sea_.

For so long, Fred told everyone the same thing when they asked about their relationship status: "I can't risk our friendship; she surely doesn't return the feelings." He had repeated this like the chorus of a song, and even Fred reached the point where he believed it. That was why he clung stubbornly to that comment he read that online; it vocalized a justification for his excuses, and it was slightly easier to insist this random internet stranger was right as opposed to putting himself out there and taking a chance, risking rejection and the loss of Daphne's friendship.

But despite Fred's efforts, it happened anyway; their friendship nearly disintegrated when they both overheard the other person's conversation with Erica. It imploded right before his own eyes, and it sliced him open like shrapnel raining on his skin when Daphne insisted they perform separately. So ironically, things were rocky between them right now anyway, and it wasn't even because he had confessed his feelings for her and it had backfired. So that begged the question: are the romantic feelings mutual? Did Daphne feel the same way about Fred that he felt about her? From the outside looking in, it sure did appear to be that way, at least on the surface. There were three kisses now, and the possibility that a love confession was disguised through song lyrics, although she had never admitted it to Fred's face. And that didn't even take into account how enraged Daphne was when she overheard his conversation with Erica.

And yet. _"I'm pretty sure he keeps misunderstanding things, and it's all my fault,_ " and, _"I just hope our friendship survives this. I don't think I could handle losing him as a friend and splitting up Mystery Incorporated:_ " Daphne had said it herself, when she was speaking with Velma yesterday. Fred had overheard it with his own ears; there was no denying it. In the heat of the moment, he interpreted it to mean that she feared Fred was overanalyzing the kiss to the point where it was truly significant for him, whereas she didn't feel the same way. It really had seemed that way from how Daphne moaned and said she feared losing Fred's friendship; it was why he reacted so hotly, the blood in his veins roaring wild, tumbling like rapids when he ran into Erica and denied that he and Daphne would ever be an official couple. He had been so sure of what he heard; as a detective, anything one sees and hears is considered tangible evidence, and at the moment, that conversation looked like a solid clue. But that didn't mean Fred was right every single time when evidence presented itself during a mystery. Erica as the Goose Lake Monster was a red herring that Fred had readily bought into; what if that was a miscalculation, too? It obviously wouldn't be the first time he was wrong.

_Knowing that you'll be there is enough for me._

Admittedly, Fred doesn't know much about romance, aside from some of what he's seen in movies and heard in songs, but he does know that when Daphne holds him, his bones ignite like matchsticks, and he does know that when she kissed him it felt like coming home, like wiping dirty shoes on a woven _welcome_ mat and stepping through the threshold of an open door, gazing through an endless room that stretched onward forever. No, Fred may not know much about romance, but he knows he's tired of turning off how he feels about Daphne, or worse yet, ignoring it, which is next to impossible because it's always there, incessant as his heart beat. And if he continues to deny that, it isn't fair to anyone: not him, not his friends, who were tired of pestering him, and most certainly, not Daphne.

Fred is suddenly drained, but it isn't physically as much as it is emotionally. He's tired of all the misunderstandings, of dancing and tip-toing around how he feels about Daphne. When he recalls how he almost confessed to Daphne once it looked as though Elliott had won, a flicker of embarrassment flares within Fred; why is it that he was only able to confess with the knowledge that he could die at any second? Does he really want to live a life that is hinged upon a fear of consequences and a fear of the unknown? It certainly doesn't align with his and the gang's livelihood, so why did he allow this to stop him for so long? Fred sighs; he's done with all of that, and he wants to leap fearlessly into whatever happens next, no matter what the outcome, but he's so terrified of falling, falling, falling and not being caught. And yet, when he remembers kissing Daphne for the third time after Elliott and Sid were caught, he doesn't remember plummeting into the pavement, but rather, the sensation that he was floating, flying, gliding through the air.

That's enough to goad him on and propel him forward as he recalls Elma's words, which swirl through his mind again. Fred knows he has to be the one to initiate a move this time; the last two kisses were all Daphne, and while the first one was mutual, he didn't want her to have a sliver of any doubt in her mind. And if he was actually right all along, and Daphne really didn't reciprocate his feelings, well, at least he was about to go down swinging. But first he had to find a way to _show_ Daphne how he felt, like Elma said, and he had to find the perfect moment and ensure that this one wouldn't be punctured by a friend or a ghost or a police officer or some other inconvenient interruption. All Fred knows is that he has to get Daphne alone, and he has to make it absolutely clear that he is in love with her.

But he still doesn't know how he is supposed to accomplish that.

He throws his head back against his feathery pillow in frustration and suppresses the urge to groan, shifting to rest on his right side. Just as Fred considers closing his eyes and shelving this idea for another day, his eyes fall upon his guitar leaning casually against the dresser. For a few seconds Fred stares at it, unblinking, the puzzle pieces falling into place as his heart somersaults in his chest. Without pausing to overthink it any more than he already has for all these years, and particularly this past week, Fred sweeps the blanket off his chest and grabs his guitar, clutches his phone tightly in his hand as he slips quietly past his friends so as not to disturb their slumber, and he walks resolutely to the Mystery Machine, moving like a man on mission.

"Elma was right," Fred thinks. "I think I just found the perfect way to show Daphne how I feel about her."

He just hopes he isn't too late.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "T-M" rating prominent, or at least, if it's not teen, it's somewhere in-between I guess? Teen and a half? Pre-mature? Who knows.
> 
> As always, I am so grateful to all reviewers and silent readers. I hope you enjoy this update, and of course, reviews are always so loved. - iamacliche

**Chapter 17**

Twenty minutes later, Fred stands outside Velma and Daphne’s hotel room, trying to ignore his vibrating nerves. It takes every molecule in his body to summon the courage, but he finally raises his fist and knocks gently against their door three times quickly, two times slowly, which is the gang’s secret code that lets each other know it’s one of them standing outside, a rule Velma established last year during a string of particularly terrifying mysteries. He waits a few agonizing moments, bouncing on the heels of his shoes once he hears shuffling and low murmurs on the other side of the door. A minute later the lock clicks, and Fred steels himself. _This is it – no turning back_.

A shiver waves through Fred, forehead to foot, when the door opens and Daphne is standing in the threshold, blinking at him curiously. She must have been sleeping, or at least, attempting it; she is wearing a lavender nightgown with short sleeves, her red hair is slightly tousled, and her eyes look sleepy and unfocused. When she sees Fred standing in the hallway, it’s evident she is surprised and that she doesn’t quite know how to interpret his presence; she instantly snaps from drowsy to fully alert, the adrenaline slamming through her in a matter of seconds.

“Fred?!” Daphne squawks, pink spilling into her cheeks as she closes the door behind her a bit. For some reason she shoots furtive glances down the hallway, as though expects a monster or a ghost to pop out at any second. “Is everything okay? Where are Shaggy and Scooby?”

“I’m fine, everything is fine,” Fred answers hastily. “Scooby and Shaggy are fine; I just came because I need to talk to you.”

Daphne knits her eyebrows together and steals a glimpse at the clock on the wall behind her. “To talk to me? But it’s past midnight,” she points out. “Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow morning? It’s getting late, and we have a show to play in the afternoon.”

Even though it already doesn’t sound promising, Daphne isn’t quite as stiff towards Fred as he had anticipated given she demanded to perform solo just the other day; she does, however, appear extremely hesitant to speak with Fred. She is slowly inching the door closed, as if sealing off any opportunity to speak further, and it makes Fred feel as though he is trapped in a sterile white room as the only window slowly closes, reducing his chance to escape. But Fred isn’t about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers once again. He wedges his foot in the door before Daphne can manage to close it completely, which makes Daphne hike an eyebrow in response.

Fred bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, as if the act will inject him with courage, and he takes a deep breath. There’s so much he wants to say to her, and he isn’t quite sure where to begin, so he surprises even himself when he finally opens his mouth and declares, “It’s my turn to pick the song.”

“What?” Daphne deadpans, pulling the door back a bit as her eyes narrow at Fred and her forehead creases. “What are you talking about? We already settled on a setlist for the concert.”

“No, not for that,” Fred tries again; he feels like he’s fumbling, stumbling through a dark room as he gropes the wall for a light switch. A lightning pang of fear seizes his stomach; maybe this was a stupid idea after all, and he should mutter some excuse about sleepwalking and retreat to his room, his tail between his legs. The bravado Fred felt thrumming inside of him earlier is slowly dwindling, but Fred does his best to ignore it and move forward resolutely. He can’t keep making excuses; he can’t stop pushing this off, or it’ll just implode in front of his face again one-day, most likely sooner than he would care to admit. Fred inhales deeply, determined, before everything gushes out of him in one hurried breath.

“Two days ago, during our dress rehearsal, you thanked me for going with you on the tunnel drive,” Fred elaborates. “And you said that next time we go, I could pick the song we listen to during the ride. Well, I wanna go for another tunnel drive right now, and I’m choosing the song this time since you offered.”

Daphne flinches, obviously taken aback, and her eyes drift back towards her bed in the hotel room. Fred can practically see the gears turning in her head as she runs through various different excuses, so before she can say anything else, he jumps in again. He knows he’s really testing their boundaries now, but he needs to make this right; he needs them to be okay again, and he can’t stand the thought of letting the sun rise one more time without Daphne knowing what has been on his mind.

“I know you may not want to go anywhere with me right now, and trust me, I don’t blame you,” Fred admits. When he recalls everything Daphne overheard during his conversation with Erica, a gust of guilt buffets him so powerfully that it makes his legs feel as though they’re resonating to some low frequency, but it only reinforces how he needs to make this right. He needs to set the record straight, once and for all. “But there’s so much that I need to tell you, most of which I should have said a lot sooner, and it really can’t wait one more minute. Plus, it’s a nice, clear night, and I’m pretty sure it’s a perfect ‘tunnel song’ kind of evening. So what do you think? Would you be willing to go with me?”

There’s a long, agonizing silence that stretches onward for what feels like hours but is in reality only a few minutes, during which Fred fully expects Daphne to declare that she isn’t interested and slam the door in his face. Finally, Fred hears the distinct sound of someone chortling behind Daphne. The laughter climbs, rising with an alarming intensity, and just when Fred is about to inquire as to what could be possibly so funny, he hears Velma groan loudly from her own bed, and she shouts with no discretion at all, “Oh PUH-LEASE, for fuck sakes, Daph, go with him! How many times do I need to say it; just talk to him already!”

Fred doesn’t miss how Daphne bites her lip to prevent a smile from yawning across her face as she nods slowly.

“Okay,” she exhales. “Fine. Just give me ten minutes to change.”

True to her word, Daphne emerges from the hotel room she shares with Velma ten minutes later, wearing a fuzzy purple sweater and a pair of tight black jeans paired with black ankle boots. Her cheeks are rosy pink and her lips have a lustrous sheen to them, which Fred attributes to a fresh swipe of lip gloss, and he catches a whiff of warm, soft vanilla when she tosses her hair behind her shoulder casually. Something about how characteristically immaculate Daphne looks in spite of the fact that their only plans consist of sitting inside the Mystery Machine makes Fred’s gently seething nervousness roil, but he manages to offer her a tight smile before they begin moving.

As they walk through various hotel hallways that twist towards the exit, an awkward silence descends over them like an itchy, stiff blanket. Fred tries not to dwell on this and instead concentrates on pulling the air through his nostrils as he mentally laments that he didn’t have Daphne’s foresight in wearing layers; although it was oppressively hot earlier that day, the evening chill gnaws Fred’s face and wafts clusters of goosebumps down his arms as soon as they exit the hotel, so it was wise on Daphne’s part to dress warmly. But then again, that’s how Michigan weather always was when Mystery Incorporated found themselves visiting for a mystery; in fact, during interviews the other day, one Goose Lake citizen had even jokingly told them that there was a popular saying notorious amongst Michiganders: “if you don’t like the weather here, just wait five minutes and it’ll change.” Fred had certainly discovered this to be true these past few days.

The remainder of the walk to the Mystery Machine remains disappointingly quiet; the only sounds puncturing the tranquil summer night are the sound of Daphne’s heels clattering against the pavement and the jingling van keys, which Fred jostles nervously in his hands as he attempts to beat back the anxiety that rolls through him in waves. Fred is almost certain Daphne can also hear his heart, which is surely thumping louder than Shaggy and Scooby’s screams during a mystery, but he does his best to ignore it, and instead focuses on opening the passenger door for Daphne, who slides into the front seat of the Mystery Machine delicately. Once Fred closes the door with a loud THUD, he tries not to dwell on the sweat pooling on his palms or the finality of his actions now that she’s perched in the front seat, waiting expectantly as he walks around to the driver’s side. Just before he yanks open his door, his hand rests on the handle, and there’s a split second when a purple spasm shudders through Fred’s chest and he considers abandoning this all over again. He focuses on how he felt just forty-five minutes ago, sitting in his bedroom, and he remembers the starving need to tell Daphne everything, and how it had seethed inside him like molten lead. Thankfully, as though Fred has summoned it like a chant during a sacred ritual, the white hot emotion returns, flaring within Fred and prompting him to tug the door open and drop onto the driver’s seat. Rolling with the momentum, he jams the keys into the ignition and throws the car into drive all in one fluid motion, moving without a pause so he doesn’t allow even a single second for the dreaded, ashy-grey hesitation to breathe.

As Fred drives, the silence continues to barrel down on them, trapping them like a firm, secure net – _don’t think about nets right now, don’t think about traps right now, don’t think about nets right now –_ and once Fred peals out of the parking lot and navigates onto the main roads he chances a glance at Daphne in an attempt to gauge her reaction. Her face is stony, solemn, but her eyes are sparkling as she drinks in the charcoal midnight sky and the moon, which appears brighter than usual tonight as it strobes between rooftops and trees. Fred contemplates how just three nights ago the conversation between them popped and fizzled and sparkled; it was so easy, and it ebbed and flowed so naturally, so seamlessly as they discussed “driving music” and Tears for Fears and even greasy fast food hamburgers, but now the air is taut, heavy with the unspoken words Fred should have voiced so long ago. He considers an attempt at slicing through the thick tension when Daphne suddenly breaks the silence and asks, “Do you want me to cue the song on my phone? You’ll have to tell me what you have in mind though so I can search it and have it ready since you’re driving.”

It isn’t much, but it feels as though Daphne extended a gift to Fred by jump-starting a conversation at last. Fred eyes the entrance to the freeway just a few feet ahead, which is the very same one they had driven through a few nights prior, and he accelerates as the ramp winds onto the open highway. They’re the only ones travelling on the road this late at night, so it isn’t long before the van merges into the fast lane, rattling down the road at seventy miles per hour.

“Ah, no, I’ve got it on my phone actually,” Fred responds now that he is free of distractions since the van is coasting safely along on the freeway. “I want it to be a surprise, like when you surprised me; I feel like that’s part of what makes the tunnel songs experience so great, if that makes sense.”

Daphne pins Fred in an intense gaze, and he can’t help but feel as though he is sitting beneath a heated lamp, the warmth pooling through him from head to toe. “What are you thinking about, Daph?” Fred wonders aloud cautiously. For a second he regrets asking since the atmosphere is so rigid between them; these past several minutes have felt as though he is trying to talk to Daphne as she stands at the end of a long, marbled corridor. Fred isn’t accustomed to this stifling distance between them, and he again berates himself over the irony of it all; he had insisted that he avoid talking to Daphne so as not to tear the fabric of their friendship, but right now it’s completely tattered anyway. He has no idea what he is going to do if his idea doesn’t work tonight.

“I don’t know,” Daphne admits gently, and for the first time in so long she laughs, and Fred relishes the sound of it, a clean, bright and silver sound, like wind chimes. “I guess I’m just surprised by the randomness of all this. I’m not really sure why you chose to do this only hours before we have to be up for our concert, and most of all, I’m really not sure what song you have up your sleeve, but it better be a good one because it’s costing me my beauty sleep, Fred Jones.”

When Daphne says his full name, something sparks and flickers inside Fred like a lit firecracker. It’s a positive sign that Daphne is joking around with him again; perhaps she is warming by a few degrees towards him, albeit slowly, and Fred wants nothing more than to open his arms and snuggle into this moment, but he knows he has to tread carefully with his response. This conversation still feels a bit like a river with a murky bottom; one overzealous move, and Fred will slip and submerge into steep nothingness.

Just as Fred opens his mouth to reply, the Mystery Machine’s GPS chirps and the screen illuminates, instructing Fred he’s only two miles away from the entrance of the tunnel. He clutches the steering wheel resolutely and attempts to ignore how his heart rate ratchets and how his forehead beads with sweat while he grips his cell phone in his right palm. His finger hovers over the play button, and everything around Fred dims as he concentrates on what he is about to do. He knows that whatever unfurls after he presses play, this moment will always remain firmly lodged between “before” and “after,” and he turns to study Daphne; Fred wants to commit everything about her face to memory and catalogue every detail about her in case this all blows up and disintegrates into a flaming sphere of ash right before his own eyes.

Fred can see the outline of the tunnel now and the glowing lights that stud the tunnel walls approaching rapidly. He swallows thickly; he knows he’s running out of time, and he knows he’s accelerating towards all the answers to the questions that have been swirling around in his head for years, and yet, he’s never been more terrified, even during the scariest moments of his mysteries. A sheen of sweat coats his back and his chest, plastering his shirt against his body like a leaf clinging to a window during a rain storm, and he wishes he had water to quench his parched mouth. There are so many different thoughts ready to slide off of Fred’s tongue, but thankfully his mind hones in on the most important thing that needs to be said at this very moment.

“Daphne,” Fred begins, his voice graver than it’s ever been, which paralyzes Daphne and forces her to remain still as she listens to him. “When I play this song, I need you to just listen, all right? Just listen to the lyrics, and it’ll tell you everything you need to know about why I needed to talk to you tonight.”

Daphne hitches an eyebrow upward, but thankfully she doesn’t press him as Fred presses his foot against the pedal, drawing the Mystery Machine closer and closer to the entrance of the tunnel. His head heaves a bit, as though he’s trying to maintain his balance on the deck of a ship being tossed around during a storm, and he feels as though he’s plunged through ice and is sinking into frigid black water as he pedals through every possible upcoming outcome in his mind. But then Daphne looks at him patiently, curiously, and not bitterly nor maliciously, and that’s enough to push Fred into pounding his finger against the play button before he can overthink anything else.

He’s timed it perfectly; just as the first few slow, sweet sounds of his acoustic guitar filter through the speakers, they reach the yawning mouth of the tunnel and it swallows them whole, immediately submerging them in glimmering lights. Fred keeps his foot pressed against the pedal as the song he recorded on his phone half an hour minutes ago bubbles inside the van. He shoots Daphne a furtive glance; even though his voice has yet to layer over the guitar, she should recognize the song already, even this early on, and sure enough, Fred is fairly certain he sees her eyes immediately swell with unshed tears. He isn’t sure what to make of this, so instead he rips his gaze away from her and focuses on the road winding before them. And as soon as he hears himself sing over the speakers, Fred rolls down the windows and allows the Michigan evening air to kiss them on the cheek, attempting to replicate the experience from three days ago as his voice pours out of the car and floods the inside of the tunnel.

_“We’ve been close a long time, as close as friends can be…”_

In his peripheral vision Fred notices Daphne flinch, as though she’s been slapped, and her chin wobbles slightly as a fat, rounded tear slides down her cheek. He wants, more than anything, to question her reaction, but he clamps his teeth against the inside of his mouth, resisting the urge to speak and break the moment, which is fragile as glass. His heart is thumping so loudly that he’s shocked he can hear the song and the wind whistling, so he leans forward to spin the dial on the radio, amplifying the mantra he’s been chanting in his heart for so long.

_“But in my heart’s a secret, for only you and me_

_I’ve tried to tell it many times, but my nerves got in the way_

_Well I can’t wait another night, to say what I must say…”_

It’s strange hearing his own voice flow out of the speakers, and it’s strange hearing the song as he sits beside Daphne as opposed to when he listened to it echo inside the empty van earlier tonight as he recorded it in the backseat. As the song builds, Fred catches himself involuntarily holding his breath, which remains trapped in his throat while he studies Daphne once the chorus unspools like yarn around them.

_“I love you,_

_I love you, yes I do,_

_I love you.”_

Without Daphne’s voice laced through Fred’s in his own pre-recorded version of their song, everything Fred has been trying to say is finally exposed and laid vulnerable before her, as though Fred has unzipped his skin and exposed all of his internal organs for the world to see with just those three words. Now that the secret is out, Fred feels purged, lighter, as though he’s slipped a heavy backpack loaded with rocks off of his shoulders and set it on the ground. And somehow, blessedly, he timed it perfectly; as the acoustic guitar dwindles and the song concludes, the Mystery Machine dashes through the exit, and Fred blinks as his eyes adjust from a brightly lit tunnel to the murky dark night. He remembers how elated he felt the last time they did this, like an overcharged battery. Fred hadn’t thought it was possible to surpass that height of ecstasy, but right now, he feels absolutely florescent, as though a passerby would be able to see the outline of his bones and his nervous system gleaming through his bare skin, and Fred can’t help but revel in this light giddiness as it absorbs into his bloodstream and sweeps through his body; is this what it feels like to tell someone that you love them? Why didn’t he do this way sooner?

But when Fred turns to look at Daphne, all that euphoria dissolves, evaporating into the ether the instant he clocks the tears that streak her face like an atlas of rivers. He is about to ask her what she’s thinking when Daphne suddenly hiccups loudly and commands simply, quietly, “Pull over and park, right now.”

The serrated tone in her voice cuts Fred, and he numbly nudges the car onto the shoulder of the freeway, which is sandwiched by bunches of trees spread out on both sides of the road. As he shifts the van into park, his brain somehow finds a moment to note that this is the same exact spot where he had parked three days ago, when they pulled over and sat ensconced in a silent and comfortable contemplation as they mulled over The National song lyrics and allowed the tunnel driving experience to wash over them.

But the peaceful night from three days ago is gone, wisped into the air like smoke, and it’s replaced with this oppressive silence that makes Fred shift uneasily in his seat. Before he can even voice a single question, Daphne flings open the passenger seat and stomps towards the woods, and Fred doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath that precedes the torrent of tears she sheds when she’s genuinely upset or angry, or worse yet, both. Fred’s heart explodes against his chest as dread seeps through his body, a milky, charcoal dye injected into his brain that disperses through his bloodstream. He follows Daphne as she retreats towards the woods, the sound of her sobs slashing through his chest like knives as he attempts to keep up with her.

“Daphne, wait,” Fred calls out. “I don’t know what I did to upset you back there, but I just need you to listen for a second so I can explain why –“

Before Fred could even finish, Daphne whirls around violently to face him, staring at him with a hurt simmering in his eyes that he had never seen before and hopes he would never have to see again.

“You don’t know what you did to upset me?!” Daphne echoes, her voice dripping with acidity. “You don’t know what you _did?!_ Fred, where do I even begin here?! First you knock on my hotel door at midnight and beg me to come with you on this silly adventure, and I decide to humor you for the hell of it even though we have a huge performance tomorrow afternoon. And then you tell me you have this mysterious song planned, and right when we get to the tunnel, you ask me to listen to the song lyrics carefully, and it ends up being the very same song I wrote for our _Talent Star_ tie-breaker, and now I have no idea if you’re just taunting me at this point, especially after everything you said to Erica the other day, or if there’s something I’m missing here. So you tell me, Fred; why did you do this?”

“She’s right, Fred,” a voice in his own head admonishes him. “It’s time to tell her the truth: unlock the vault burrowed in your heart, and show her what’s inside.”

Fred sighs, his heart beating like a flurry of butterfly wings against his chest; he’s trying to decide where to begin because he doesn’t want to risk shattering this opportunity now, as it definitely looks as though he won’t have another chance after this. Luckily, the one benefit of being in the woods, removed from their friends and civilization as a whole, is that there is no way anyone can barge in on this and take it away from him this time; it’s part of why he had planned it this way, although ideally, Daphne would have been gazing at him from across the passenger seat as he spoke, and she would have been crying tears of joy, not confusion and possibly rage.

Daphne cocks her head to the side inquisitively, and the moonlight highlights her face, which is open, vulnerable, waiting for Fred’s response.

“Well?” Daphne prompts, and Fred exhales shakily and begins, plunging into the unknown with no abandon.

“Daphne,” Fred breathes, “Okay. You’re right. I owe you so many explanations and apologies, and I have so much I need to say to you and I feel like I’m running out of time; quite frankly, I don’t even know where to begin, and I keep half-expecting someone to jump out and interrupt me at any second now, since it seems to be some curse that’s just determined to keep plaguing me this entire week.”

This manages to draw a smile out of Daphne, and Fred experiences the tiniest flicker of hope burn inside of him.

“Let me start at the beginning,” Fred gulps the anxiety laced in his throat and plows forward. “Um. _Talent Star_. I’ll never forget when you asked me to audition with you. Honestly, that terrified me. I know we’re relatively famous for solving mysteries, but the thought of performing on stage made me want to hurl. I’ve had bad stage fright ever since I was a little kid; I think it all started when I lost the second grade spelling bee because I couldn’t spell the word _calendar_ , and –“

Fred pauses when he notes the bewildered expression splashing Daphne’s pretty face.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m rambling and got side-tracked, but it’s just because I’m so nervous,” Fred fists a hand in his hair and emits a strangled, frustrated sound. “Okay, I swear I can do this. Okay. As I was saying, when you asked me to audition with you, my knee-jerk reaction was to say no. But then it dawned on me that if I said yes, then I could reasonably spend extra time with you, just the two of us, which was something that I really wanted to do; it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, as a matter of fact. And it worked, to a certain extent.”

As Daphne listens to Fred, the sour expression that puckers her face slowly melts, and it’s replaced with a softness that pools in her eyes. If Fred didn’t know better, he would think she looked hopeful.

“It worked, because we logged hours practicing together, and those hours we sunk into practicing carried us all the way to the final round,” Fred continues, ignoring the way his rattling nerves are reminiscent of an animal pacing his cage at a zoo. “And once we got to that final round, we needed a tie breaker, and you surprised me when you improvised with that song last second.”

Daphne’s gaze remained steady until this remark, but when Fred mentions the tie-breaker song she penned, her eyes brim with tears once again. There’s a few feet of space that separate them now, and Fred steps forward hesitantly, pausing when Daphne visibly jumps. He ignores the pang of disappointment and fear shooting through him and continues.

“So not only did you surprise me, but you made me realize something I’ve been denying to myself for so long as we sang that song together in Chicago, so I moved in to kiss you,” Fred says, blushing only slightly when he alludes to the kiss. He notes the pink blooming on Daphne’s cheeks, and he resumes, “And I thought that was the end of it, honestly, and that’s all my fault; I take full responsibility for when this all started going south. I figured maybe it was just for show, and I know it would have made sense to just address you directly and ask, but I had an endless amount of reasons not to bring it up with you again. There were a few times when I tried, of course, but it seemed like I could never get what I had to say out there before someone interrupted me. Honestly, I worried it was the universe giving me a sign, so I latched onto it. And then it just got so much worse once we got to Goose Lake.”

Fred takes another tentative step forward, and this time Daphne doesn’t budge; instead, her eyes remain glued to his face as she wordlessly soaks in every word.

“When we got here and Erica offered to have us play in the concert, I was ecstatic again,” Fred admits. “I thought it would be more of an excuse to spend time alone with you. But then I started wallowing in my own thoughts and insecurities. I watched you nervously react to the Fraphne nickname whenever Erica or another fan tossed it around, and there were a few times when you seemed flustered if someone implied we were a couple. I thought to myself, ‘There’s surely no way this will go well for you if speak to her now.’ I mean, why risk our friendship if I said what was on my mind and wound up being wrong?”

A pause, and he inches a step closer to Daphne, slowly drawn towards her like a magnet. A small smile is slowly inching across her face as a single tear slides down her cheek, but she doesn’t distance herself from him or command him to step back.

“The Fraphne stuff just got worse and worse as we worked on the Goose Lake Monster case, and I thought it embarrassed you whenever someone brought up the ship name because you couldn’t stand the thought of us being together like that,” Fred continues. “And I went and made it worse by looking up Fraphne online the night after our dress rehearsal, and I found some, uh, pretty obscure fan art and posts. There were a lot of things that should have probably made me man up and say something, but of course, I allowed just one single comment to haunt me, and it was this post from someone on DeviantArt that called themselves ScoobyDoobyDoo. The user basically insinuated that you and I would never be more than friends because it was either all for show or because we would never act on it, and something about that remark sent me over the edge. I figured there had to be some truth in it if we weren’t together after that _Talent Star_ incident, so I decided it was definitely best not to utter a word about the kiss.”

One more step, and he’s just two feet away from Daphne now; he’s close enough that he can hear her breath hitch in her throat with every word he says, but he’s far away enough that he doesn’t realize their heart beats are synchronized, pulsating with a frantic and electric frenzy as Fred speaks.

“So here I am, all set to keep things sealed inside of me forever, when you go and startle me again with that second kiss when we hid from the monster,” Fred persists. “And I was really, truly stumped. I thought that maybe it was a good sign, but then I worried that maybe I was overthinking it again, and I should have just been grateful that you were quick on your feet and saved our lives. When Shaggy and Scooby figured out something was off with me afterwards, they convinced me to talk to you, and so I set out, determined, but before I could reach you I heard you talking with Velma. When you told her you were mortified that I found some Fraphne art online, and that you were worried about talking to me and jeopardizing our relationship, I was crushed. I assumed you meant that you were disgusted with me for looking up the artwork in the first place, and I assumed that you were going to speak with me and say that we should remain friends.”

Something dawns on Daphne’s face; her glimmering eyes are wide as saucers, and she looks as though she’s just unraveled the loose ends of a difficult mystery. Fred allows this to bolster him, so he chances another step forward, and then another, until he’s just a foot away from her now.

“So I thought that you, I don’t know, I thought you regretted everything up until that point,” Fred stammers. As difficult as it is to vocalize every thought and every hurt over this past week, he gradually feels lighter, as though he could float away, untethered. He really, really should have done this so much sooner. “I figured you didn’t actually mean to initiate both kisses, or that maybe you weren’t into me like that, after all, and I got…scared, I guess. Scared because I worried you didn’t feel the same way. And all I could think of was that dumb ScoobyDoobydoo comment, and it made everything way worse. So when Erica came to speak to me and I went off, I was really hurting. I figured that if you regretted kissing me, then the best way to get over it was to pretend like I wasn’t bothered, and act like I didn’t want to be a couple, too. I was so sure you were not into me at all, and I didn’t want to risk losing you as a friend by making you uncomfortable and pressing the issue, so it seemed like the most reasonable thing to tell Erica at the time was that we would never be a couple and that our kiss was a mistake.”

“So…that was, what, a defense mechanism?” Daphne whispers, speaking for the first time since she bolted from the Mystery Machine.

Her comment propels Fred another step forward; he’s so close to Daphne now that just a few inches separate them. It would be so easy to bridge that gap, but he pauses, waiting for that perfect moment.

“Yeah,” he breathes out slowly. “Yeah. It was all a defense mechanism. When I told Erica our kiss was a mistake, that was complete and utter bullshit. But I’m tired of saying lies, and I’m tired of speaking utter bullshit, so I’m about to say something that is true, and I hope you know I mean every single word of it.”

Fred erases the final few inches remaining between them and stands so that his chest is flush against Daphne’s; not even a single piece of paper would be able to slip through them. Before he can stop and overthink anything else for one more second, Fred’s right hand reaches out to grips Daphne’s, slowly threading his fingers through her long, delicate fingers, and his left hand drifts upward to cup her chin, which wobbles slightly. Every part of him is liquid and warm as Fred’s heartbeat gallops louder and louder in his ears.

“That online generator may have given us the first half of the song, but I meant every word of what I wrote,” Fred murmurs, his eyes fixed on Daphne’s so she knows that every word is straight from his heart, as though he’s reached into his chest and snatched every syllable straight from his cardiovascular system. “I really am nothing without you by my side; knowing that you’ll always be there really is more than enough for me. And as I sang in that tunnel song just now, I really do love you, Daphne Blake. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it, and I really hope you can say it back, but even if you don’t, I just need to get that out there before I go crazy.”

Daphne is crying freely now, and Fred uses the hand that was cupping her chin to swipe away her tears as the hand still laced through hers begins to brush his thumb slowly across her knuckles. She hiccups and he holds his breath, waiting. He is acutely aware of how he is standing so close to Daphne that he can feel the heat radiating from her burning cheeks, and he distantly hears the rustling and chirping of bugs and insects in the woods, but everything else is indistinct background noise compared to this moment and whatever Daphne says next.

Finally, Daphne smiles, gradually, and Fred feels something inside of him come unglued.

“Well, that’s good news,” Daphne whispers. “Because I meant every word of what I wrote in my song, too; in fact, you’re who I was thinking of when I wrote ‘I love you’ the day before the tie-breaker round.”

It’s as though Daphne struck a match and tossed it onto a house doused in gasoline; instantly, Fred lunges forward and captures his mouth with her mouth, hungrily. The kiss is desperate, fast, as though they’re losing time, or as though Elliott and Sid are standing over them with the stun gun again, ready to shoot them at any second. Fred’s lips press hard against Daphne’s, which are soft as pillows, and he allows himself to sink into them and fall into this moment recklessly. Daphne wraps her hands around his neck as she parts her lips, and when her tongue strokes his softly it turns Fred’s blood to fire. Even though this isn’t the first or second or even third time that they’ve kissed, it feels just as new and exciting as the first soft, sweet one they shared on stage. And the best part is that when Daphne smiles against Fred’s mouth, he can feel it, and he can’t help but smile against her lips in response.

“Wait, Fred?” Daphne pulls away from him and he registers the hammering of his heart and the rising and falling of their chests as their lungs work overtime, their breathing staggered. Her voice is quiet, tinged with a mix of surprise and awe, and her eyes are sparkling, beautiful as ever, as her long lashes flutter rapidly. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and Fred isn’t sure if it’s drowsiness, or if she’s as intoxicated off this kiss and this electrifying emotion as he is right now.

“Fred, just so we’re clear; this kiss really is for real, right? I mean, there’s no more second guessing what this is now, right?” Daphne asks.

Fred moves one hand, which had drifted down the middle of her back, to the back of her head, and he strokes her hair lightly while his other hand rests on her waist. He attempts to pull her even closer, even though they’re already fused together chest to chest, hip to hip. “Oh yeah,” Fred responds, his voice syrupy. “This isn’t some kiss to end _Talent Star_ or some excuse to hide from some monster; this is the real deal.”

Daphne skates her thumb along his cheekbone, and Fred closes his eyes; despite how feathery her touch is, he thinks he might detonate right then and there.

“Okay,” Daphne smiles, resting her forehead against his. “I just wanted to make sure that, well, I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you realized what we were doing right now.”

“Duh,” Fred chuckles, brushing his nose against her nose, which elicits a giggle from Daphne. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the day I met you.”

He leans in for another kiss, but Daphne places a finger against his lips, which makes him pout mischievously.

“Hold on,” Daphne giggles, and Fred finds himself wishing he could listen to the twinkling, melodious sing-song of her laughter until he dies. “Um. You were really honest and open with me, so I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry; this was partially my fault, too. Velma kept telling me that I should just talk to you, and I kept holding it off. I guess I thought the same thing that you did; I was worried that you thought the kiss was just a spur of the moment, grabby way to end _Talent Star_ , and I didn’t want to risk losing our friendship, either. You’re so important to me, Freddy; I didn’t want to lose you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

Truthfully, Fred wants nothing more than to pack up the past and shove it in a chest and bury it somewhere; all he wants to do now is have his lips soldered against Daphne’s and experience the thrum of electricity dancing in his stomach when he touches her. Even though it all oppressed him only minutes ago, it doesn’t even seem significant now; all he cares about is looking forward to the future.

But the sincerity and the pain in Daphne’s voice unstitches Fred, and it makes him wish all over again that he had talked to her way, way sooner. An alternate timeline flashes through his head, one where he and Daphne confessed their feelings for each other years ago, and instead of dancing around their love for each other they spent mysteries with their hands intertwined as they roamed dark, abandoned houses, and they stole kisses in the front seat of the Mystery Machine, whether their friends were watching or not. “But that isn’t your story,” Fred reminds himself as he gazes at Daphne. “Don’t torment yourself with what could have been any longer; she’s here in your arms now, so at least try to prove to her that she made the right choice with you.”

Fred responds to Daphne’s apology by leaning in again, and somehow their kiss is even wilder than before; he feels flushed, feverish, as he snakes a hand through her hair while the other slides down the small of her back. Before Fred fully comprehends it, Daphne stands on her tip toes and wraps both her legs around his waist as he hoists her feet off the ground in one fluid movement, gripping her back as he carries her with no effort. He stumbles backwards a few steps until his back smacks against the side of the Mystery Machine, and the sound of crashing into the car jolts them apart momentarily, startled, but immediately the laughter bubbles out of them like love-drunk teenagers. Ravenous for her mouth on his again, Fred, who is still carrying Daphne, spins her around and pins her against the van, causing her to squeal as their mouths clash together once more, teeth and tongues colliding and wrestling for dominance. She runs her hands up his chest and down his arms, and Fred groans, emitting a deep, low growl in the back of his throat that sounds so primal it surprises him; her touch feels so combustible that he half-expects to burst into flames. He keeps her pinned against the Mystery Machine and moves to kiss her jaw, her neck, and behind her ear, which causes Daphne to shiver when he lingers there.

“Is this okay?” Fred asks against her skin; he doesn’t want to be anything less than sure. He wants Daphne to feel safe with him, always, safer even than he feels whenever she’s next to him.

“Yes,” Daphne sighs contentedly, and he wastes no time in stamping her collarbone with his lips, relishing her soft moan and the way her legs tighten around his waist. Everything sizzles and crackles inside of Fred, and when Daphne runs her hands down the side of his body and kisses him quickly and slowly, alternatively, as though he is something she simultaneously wants to devour and savor, he nearly expects to dissolve into a puddle. But then her hands drop lower, down to his belt, and when Daphne yanks his shirt up and grazes the soft skin of his stomach, his breath hitches in his throat. Fred distantly becomes aware of a situation, well, _down there_ that instantly makes it obvious how much he is enjoying this, and –

A car horn blares past them on the freeway, wailing for a full ten seconds with no pause to breathe, and Fred and Daphne fly apart from each other like shrapnel as they become sharply aware of the fact that they’re making out, or bordering on going beyond that, on the side of the highway, out in the open for anyone to watch and see. Fred delicately lowers Daphne onto the ground and steadies her on her feet as his cheeks scald, but he keeps his hands wrapped around her waist, unwilling to stop touching her completely, and she lets her fingers glide up his arms and rest around his neck.

“That was…wow,” Fred says, breathless. His voice is ragged, spent, and he’s never heard himself sound this rugged before, even when his throat is raw from screaming during a mystery.

“I know,” Daphne smirks. “But, uh, we’re in public. Out in the open. For anyone to see.”

Even though Fred realizes they behaved recklessly now that his senses are slowly restored, he doesn’t register a single concern; he’s never felt this wanted, this needed by someone else, and it makes him feel intoxicated, emboldened.

But then he realizes a certain _situation_ is still going on down below, and he glances down sheepishly, worried about Daphne’s response should she notice.

“I, uh, need a moment,” Fred stammers, heat rushing to his cheeks as he moves to swivel away from her. But he doesn’t budge far before she grips his arm, a seductive grin stitched across her face.

“Um,” she chokes, her cheeks tinged pink. “Um, do you want to continue this somewhere, uh, private? Like maybe the backseat of the Mystery Machine?”

Fred gawks at her, hardly believing his ears.

“Uh, do I want to continue this?” Fred raises his eyebrows, mouth quirked to one side. “Let’s see. Are Shaggy and Scooby cowards? Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Are traps awesome?”

“Okay, okay,” Daphne chuckles, her eyes glimmering. “I just wanted to make sure, well, that you were sure about us, that’s all.”

Fred raises a hand to brush a finger over her left eyebrow, and he feels her tremble just slightly in his arms.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” Fred breathes.

It’s enough to drive Daphne over the edge; she surges towards him and captures his mouth with the same chaotic desperation as before, and again Fred lifts her as she wraps her legs around his torso, giggling against his lips as he carries her around to the back of the Mystery Machine. Normally the back door wrenches open easily, but since he’s supporting Daphne with one hand it takes Fred a minute to finagle the latch. When it finally loosens they tumble inside, a tangle of arms and legs knotted together as their lips continue brushing against clavicles and ears and lips, and Daphne breaks away momentarily to reach up and slam the door behind them with an unwavering bang.

And the things they did together inside the Mystery Machine that night went unnoticed, unseen by any of the stans and fans, any monsters and imposters in costumes, and any person sitting in any studio audience and any viewer glued to a television monitor.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Here we are, the final chapter! I can't even believe how this fic started as a small idea and grew and expanded over time. I have so much to say and I don't know where to begin, but I want to say thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited, and read this fic these past several months. The support this received still overwhelms me, and each review and each view feels like a warm embrace. I'm just so flattered that so many people enjoy this, and that so many people ship Fraphne as heavily as I do.
> 
> If you're interested in what I'm working on next, I plan to return to one shots for "The Week After" series, so be sure to keep your eyes pealed! I hope to return with two sometime in March.
> 
> Thanks once more to my guest reviewers and my consistent reviewers and friends for the support, feedback, and love. I really, really appreciate it so much, and I wish I could eloquently convey how much it all means to me. Please enjoy the final chapter, and of course, as always, reviews are appreciated.
> 
> With much love,
> 
> iamacliche

**Chapter 18**

When Fred's eyes open drowsily, his first initial reaction is to tell himself that it was all just a dream, but as he claws his way through the hazy, soupy fog rippling in his brain, the proof exists with the beautiful naked woman tucked beneath the thin blue blanket and curled against his side, her chest rising and falling rhythmically as she sleeps. Daphne's head rests on Fred's naked torso, just inches away from his face, and her left arm drapes over the cheap feathery pillow while her right arm is thrown across Fred's waist. Fred doesn't remember when it happened, but at some point in the middle of the night their hands must have intertwined because her fingers are loosely laced through his own, and it fleetingly makes Fred recall how otters holding hands while sleeping so they don't drift apart from each other. Something about that fact drives Fred to plant a kiss on the top of Daphne's head as a syrupy contentedness surges from his forehead all the way to the tips of his toes.

Fred slowly brushes the hand that isn't holding Daphne's through her long wavy hair, savoring this moment and this experience with her. This is a sight Fred always fantasized seeing one day, which is something he wouldn't have admitted readily, or at least aloud, until this moment, and now that he's finally experiencing it, it's as though he's having a sensory overload; his heart swells a few sizes as a fuzzy warmth pops behind his ribcage like a lit sparkler, and his breath traps in his throat every time he catches a whiff of her apricot scented shampoo. The late morning sunlight spears through the Mystery Machine windows and slants across Daphne's face, making her hair look fiery, and her face looks tranquil, peaceful as she rests. Somehow, she looks even more beautiful asleep than she is when she's awake, and a tenderness washes over Fred like a tidal wave. This moment – and the past several hours, particularly the moments and the things that occurred between them before they fell asleep – is something Fred wishes he could capture on film so he could tuck it in his back pocket and relive it again and again. He has dated a few women casually before this, but it was never like this; no one's touch ever ignited sparks against his nerve-endings the way Daphne's did when her fingernails skated across his skin, and no one's kiss has ever turned his blood to fire the way Daphne's did when her lips clashed with his. Fred has wanted this, wanted her, for so damn long, and now that he finally has her, it still doesn't feel real; the details of the previous night were encrusted with the fantasy lining of a sugar-sweet dream, but they retained the sense of vividness and order that exist in concrete details within the waking world.

As though sensing Fred is awake, Daphne's eyes flutter open, and Fred can discern that it takes her a few waking moments to place where she is and recall what happened last night too based on the furrow of her eyebrows, but almost immediately the confusion is eclipsed by pure, undiluted bliss. She breaks into a grin and presses a kiss against Fred's cheek, causing a blush to rise to his cheeks. Something about that action makes reality drip in and underscore the past twelve hours, and Fred can't help but wonder if this is just the first of many mornings he'll spend wrapped up in Daphne's arms; truthfully, he hopes it's the first day of the rest of their lives together, but he doesn't want to break this delicate moment by getting too far ahead of himself and dwelling on the future.

"Did all that really happen?" Fred wonders aloud. He can't help himself; he feels as though he's been perpetually smiling since last night.

"I would say it actually happened, yes," Daphne purrs, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. "Unless we both had the same erotic dream, then yeah, I would say it was real."

"I definitely prefer if it were real over a dream," Fred sighs, dropping a soft kiss on Daphne's forehead. Distantly, he registers the sound of birds chirping outside and the gentle rocking of the Mystery Machine whenever a car periodically zooms past them on the freeway, but otherwise everything is still and calm, just as it is after a tornado or a thunderstorm passes. A minute later Fred detects his phone vibrating noisily from the front seat, which is where he tucked it after he played the tunnel song, but he's not inclined in the slightest to untangle himself from Daphne and see who could be calling right now; whoever it is can definitely wait, and whatever is going on in the outside world can't be nearly as important as lying on his back behind the passenger seat in the Mystery Machine as the woman he loves snuggles even closer against his side.

"So, you're not like one of those guys who hits it and quits it after he gets lucky one night, are you?" Daphne teases, her mouth quirked to one side as her eyebrows arch playfully.

Even though Fred understands Daphne is merely kidding, his heart squeezes in his chest as he brushes the stray hair away from her face, which makes Daphne noticeably shiver.

" _Lucky_?" Fred parrots, his voice thick with saccharine. "Honestly, Daph, I never in a million years thought I would ever be this lucky."

His comment wafts a smile across Daphne's face as her eyes brim with unshed tears. She places a trail of gentle kisses on his neck before her lips press against his softly.

"I love you so much, Fred Jones," Daphne sighs. "You make me really, really happy. I hope you know that."

"You make me happy too, Daphne Blake," Fred held her even tighter. "And I love you, too. I can't even believe that's something I get to say out loud to you now, whenever I want."

Dimly, Fred's ears detect his phone twittering once again, and a twinge of concern tickles his chest. This is the second phone call he's received in less than five minutes; should he be worried that someone is in danger or that there's some sort of emergency? But there's no way that's even possible; the Goose Lake Monster has been unmasked and exposed, with Elliott and Sid locked behind bars, and Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby are probably sleeping late at the hotel, re-energizing after all the adventure and excitement that unfurled over the past week. It's possible that it's a stranger calling to report a new mystery, with the hopes of requesting Mystery Incorporated's assistance, but for the first time ever, Fred doesn't feel overly eager to rush into the arms of the next adventure, at least not as long as he's still lying in Daphne's arms.

Fred tugs the hand that is holding Daphne's up to his lips and kisses her palm gently, which provokes giggles from Daphne, as his phone finally, blessedly, ceases to shrill. He wishes he could remain ensconced in this woolly, warm serenity that swaddles them like a blanket forever.

"So, uh, how was _it_ for you last night?" Daphne asks suggestively, a coy smile stitching her face slowly. "Was it good?"

"Was it good? Hmmm…let me think," Fred pauses dramatically as the seconds stretch between them, and he attempts to convey a neutral face to heighten the suspense, but now that he's confessed his feelings to Daphne, it's as though he can't conceal anything from her, even jokingly. His cheeks singe and his blood begins humming just thinking about last night all over again.

"Was it good?" Fred asks again, circling back to her question. "Let's see…Are Shaggy and Scooby cowards? Is the sky blue? Is the grass green? Are traps awesome? Are ascots a great accessory? Does – "

Before he can continue rambling, Daphne tickles his stomach in one fluid motion, taking advantage of the fact that she learned just how ticklish he was last night, causing Fred to erupt into a fit of laughter.

"Okay okay, you got me!" He smirks, clasping both of her hands in his and pulling her on top of him, which makes Daphne squeal with delight. Fred frames her face in his hands and pulls her towards him, brushing soft kisses across her lips, relishing the way his body physically reacts to her body as though it's the first time he's kissed her or felt her naked torso fused against his all over again. If every interaction they have is this combustible, Fred might just melt into a puddle of water sooner rather than later.

"So yeah, you could say it was good for me," Fred kisses the tip of her nose. "How about you? Was it good for you, too?"

"It was incredible," Daphne smiles, but then it immediately morphs into a smirk. "I think we need to practice a few more times to be absolutely sure though."

That's enough to drive Fred over the edge again as he captures her mouth with his hungrily, and he's starting to think maybe they're about to "practice" again when his phone once again vibrates and punctures the moment abrasively. Daphne pulls away from Fred and furrows her forehead.

"Uh, Freddy? Isn't that like the fourth time someone has tried calling you since we woke up?" she asks, the concern prominent in her voice. "Maybe we should get it, just in case."

"Aww, whoever it is can wait," Fred groans, exaggerating a pout. "Besides, we have nowhere to be right now, right? No mysteries to solve, no Goose Lake Monster, no concerts, no – "

Instantly, Fred and Daphne freeze as sheer panic glazes both of their faces; if things weren't so suddenly dire, Fred would laugh at how Daphne's facial expression is a mirror reflection of his own.

" _Wait,_ " Daphne whispers. "Concerts. _Concerts_."

"Oh my God," Fred utters as shadowy dread scales the ladder of his ribcage. "Oh my God, the Goose Lake Concert! _Fuck_!"

"Quick, check the time!" Daphne yelps, sliding off of Fred. "Maybe it's still early morning, and we still have time to drive back!"

As Fred scrambles and claws his way to the front seat of the Mystery Machine, his phone is quiet again, and he tries to silence the panic howling in his brain. Up until he mentioned the concert, he had completely forgotten that he and Daphne were playing the show today at half past noon; it hadn't even dawned on him when he woke up the way it had the previous few days because he was, well, fairly preoccupied with other things. But now that the bliss that shrouded him has disintegrated into the air like fog hitting the morning sunlight, all he can think of is the fact that he and Daphne have potentially let Jordie and Erica down at the very last minute.

"Stay positive," Fred tells himself as he reaches for his phone, a lump fisted in his throat. "There's no way Daphne and I slept through the late morning; I would have noticed."

His heart shudders when he eyes the time on his phone – 12:25. They have exactly five minutes to throw their clothes back on, drive down the freeway and back to Goose Lake, and take the stage. There was no way they were going to make it on time; Goose Lake was at least twenty minutes away, and that was without daytime traffic.

All of these thoughts zip through Fred in a nanosecond, and before he can waste another second he turns to Daphne and calls, "We overslept; the show starts in less than five minutes and we have to get outta here! Quick, change and I'll start driving."

Instantly the van is a flurry of clothes sailing through the air and fingers brushing through hair and an erratic frenzy of four letter cuss words. It's 12:27 when Fred and Daphne both slip into the front seat of the van, and just as Fred turns the key in the ignition, his phone illuminates again, Shaggy's name emblazoned across the screen.

"Fuck," Fred mutters again, swiping his finger across the screen and cradling his phone in that space between his neck and shoulder as he guides the Mystery Machine back onto the freeway.

"LIKE, ZOINKS! Fredster, where are you?!" Shaggy screeches so loudly on the other end that Fred has to hold the phone away from his ear with one hand while the other hand navigates the steering wheel. "We've been, like, calling you constantly for the past half hour! Where are you? And where's Daphne? Are you with her right now? And when will you guys, like, get here? The show is starting in three minutes and there's a crowd waitin' here for ya both!"

Fred's nerves coil like a snake in his stomach, and he tries to pin down one of Shaggy's questions. He isn't sure how to explain everything regarding him and Daphne over the phone, so rather than attempt it he merely responds, "I'm sorry Shag, something came up and I guess I lost track of time, but I'm with Daphne now and we're on our way to the show. We're gonna make it, but we'll be a few minutes late, so be sure to pass the message along to Jordie and Erica."

"You're gonna, like, be late?!" Shaggy echoes, his voice dripping with anxiety. A second later his voice brightens, replying mischievously, "Heeeey, Scoob and I will, like, stall for ya both! We've been meanin' to try our comedy show on an audience since last week, and when that mean host said we couldn't, I thought we lost our shot! Turns out it's our lucky day, Scoob!"

Fred faintly hears Scooby cheer and snicker with approval in the background before a rustling noise crackles through the cell phone speaker. He prepares to disconnect just as Velma shrills, "Jinkies! Freddy, what's going on? Are you still with Daphne? What happened last night? And where are you guys?"

Daphne's cheeks are a vibrant shade of scarlet as she hears Velma's clipped voice gushing a torrent of questions. Fred shoots Daphne an expression that reads, "Should I tell her everything," which prompts a vigorous headshake from Daphne. He considers questioning it and pressing the issue, but they're running out of time.

"Uh, Velma, Daphne is fine, and I'm fine," Fred answers hastily. "We'll be there soon and explain everything when we see you. For now, don't let Shag and Scoob chase away the audience with their terrible comedy act."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of, too," Velma murmurs. "Just hurry up and get back quick! We'll stall the crowd as long as we can, but they're definitely ready to hear you guys!"

Fred ends the call before Velma can say anything else and he presses his foot against the gas pedal. He's driving so quickly that the trees blur past them in blurry green swipes, resembling a child's messy watercolor painting. Luckily there is no one else on the road even though it's a weekend and even though it's the afternoon, so they approach the exit ramp of the freeway quickly. Fred's heart bangs against the seatbelt as he drives, and Daphne wrings her hands together anxiously in the seat beside him.

"I didn't realize it was so late," Fred laments as he changes lanes and merges off the freeway. They're about ten minutes away from Goose Lake now, and ideally, they should go back to their hotel room and grab the outfits Elma sold them for the show a few days ago, but there is not a single second to spare now; one glance at the clock informs Fred that it's 12:35 now. They have no choice but to perform in their everyday street clothes.

Daphne stares down at her lap. "Jeepers. Yeah. I guess we were…distracted."

Fred's stomach drops the same way it does when he's perched at the top of a roller coaster and he's staring down at the bottom of the hill; if Daphne ends up regretting this, he'll never recover.

As if reading his mind or sensing the way he flinches, Daphne rests her hand on his shoulder gently.

"Hey," she says soothingly. "Even if we're late and it's embarrassing and the crowd hates us, I wouldn't have done anything differently over the past twelve hours. I want you to know that, okay?" Her voice is soft, as though it's wrapped in gauzy wool, while also maintaining confidence and reassurance, and it fuels Fred with a fierce determination.

"Yeah," Fred grins as a cluster of butterflies beat their wings inside his stomach. "Same here. I'm glad we're on the same page, then."

Daphne winks at him, but her sly expression flickers to one of frustration when a traffic light ahead of them flips from yellow to red.

"UGH!" Fred smacks his forehead against the steering wheel theatrically and eyes the clock, which now reads 12:40; they're officially ten minutes late to their own show. "Poor Jordie and Erica. I feel like we're letting them down."

"We'll make it," Daphne asserts with conviction. "Here, take the right hand turn and we'll keep moving. I think we passed through here the other day when we did interviews, and this will take us through some side streets where we won't hit any other lights all the way up to the campsite."

Fred flicks the turn signal and slides into the right hand turn lane. "Are you sure?"

"No," Daphne admits. "But at this rate, it's our best chance. There's so many lights along the main roads, and usually if you hit one of them, that means you'll hit them all."

Realizing she is correct, Fred swerves to the right and picks up speed, barreling down side streets and circling sharply through a roundabout, white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire time. Fortunately, Daphne was right; five minutes later, residential buildings are replaced with trees, and the sign that advertises the entrance to Goose Lake Campground looms in their vision. They're so close now that Fred can practically feel the air sizzling with the audience's palpable excitement.

Fred flies into the campground parking lot and takes in the sea of cars dispersed throughout the lot, moaning as he notes endless rows of cars that glimmer in the sun like multicolored glass. It would take another ten minutes just to fish around for a free space, so he brakes in a makeshift spot; hopefully Bradford and his officers are in forgiving moods regarding parking tickets today. After he throws the Mystery Machine in park, begins to experience the usual nerves that vibrate along his bones just before he and Daphne perform. Even though this isn't their first show by any means, he still hasn't mastered how to channel that same easy-going, self-assured confidence that Daphne exudes whenever they sing.

"Well, I guess we better get going," Fred states, glimpsing the Mystery Machine's clock as it flashes 12:52. "We're a little late, but as they say, the show must go on!"

He reaches for the door handle before Daphne jumps up to grab his arm, which startles him, causing a purple jolt of lightning to spasm through his stomach.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you!" Daphne apologizes, reaching over to brush his wrist with her fingertips. Fred's blood boils by degrees; even her lightest touch is so intense.

"But I was thinking, do you wanna play a little prank on everyone and have a little fun?" Daphne asks coyly.

Fred cocks his head to the side. "What? How?"

Daphne's smile unknots the nerves constricting Fred's stomach, and laughter tumbles out of her as she slaps a hand across her lips, as though whatever idea is stewing inside of her is about to bubble out at any second.

"Okay, so everyone thinks we're playing separately, right? Well, what if we swerve them? What if I take the stage first, as planned, and then halfway through the first song you come on stage and start playing with me, and then afterwards we kiss on stage and shock everyone!" Daphne claps, eager as a child.

Fred mulls it over in his head; it _would_ be funny to see the pure shock and sheer excitement that would surely ripple across Erica's face, and he can already envision how Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby's jaws would drop to the ground. Plus, maybe it would make the crowd pop to see them reunite unexpectedly after the initial announcement that they were performing solo acts.

"Let's do it!" Fred exchanges a high-five with Daphne. "This is gonna be so great!"

Not wanting to waste any additional time, Fred and Daphne both jump out of the van and tear through the parking lot, hand-in-hand, giggling and stumbling against each other like love-struck teenagers who have had a little too much to drink. They pass one or two fans who shoot them curious expressions, but otherwise the parking lot is completely empty; the audience is surprisingly punctual, and Fred can already detect the hum of polite, subtle chatter that occurs when a band is performing on stage and there are certain portions of the audience who would rather socialize than listen. Initially Fred is confused; he and Daphne are the only acts, so why is the general mood so apprehensive and subdued?

As Fred and Daphne wind around to the side of the entrance of the stage, he immediately discovers the answer when he observes Shaggy and Scooby standing in the middle of the stage with microphones in both of their hands, which is a sight that terrifies him more than ghosts and monsters because it means only one thing; they've decided to go through with their promise of entertaining the audience with their comedy act.

"Oh no," Fred breathes to Daphne. "I hope they didn't make the crowd bored to tears."

Daphne chuckles softly as they approach the stairs that lead to the stage, and as they move Fred hears snatches of the "jokes" Shaggy and Scooby are lobbing into the already humid and warm summer afternoon.

"Say Scoob, what do you get when you cross a dog with a rose?" Shaggy trills, his voice rising a few octaves with overzealous anticipation.

"Ri ron't ro Raggy, rhat?" Scooby barks as he hops around on stage, his tail wagging eagerly despite the fact that he's already heard this joke more times than Fred can recall.

"A COLLIE FLOWER!" Shaggy cheers, and he and Scooby collapse onto the stage in a fit of hysterics.

As Fred and Daphne ascend the staircase, he doesn't miss the utterly silent crowd and the tension fizzling with mounting irritation; there's not a single person who offers even a polite chuckle.

"Guess these jokes didn't work any better for the guys than they did for us, huh?" Daphne whispers as she winks at Fred, who bites back a peal of laughter.

"Nah, but at least you looked cuter when you told that joke," Fred smiles, relishing the blush that rises to her cheeks.

Shaggy must sense that the crowd is slipping through his fingers like sand, because he glances around desperately as his cheeks flush salmon.

"Uh, say Scoob, I got another one for ya; what's one bone a dog will, like, never eat?" Shaggy stammers.

"Ruh, ri don't ro," Scooby answers, his tail wagging less enthusiastically as his eyes sweep over the disinterested faces swimming before him in the sea of people.

"Like, a TROMBONE!" Shaggy announces, and this time the crowd starts to groan and jeer at them, and a cluster of people are even chanting "We want Fred and Daphne, we want Fred and Daphne!"

"Like, zoinks! Uh, Fred and Daphne will be here, uh, like, soon!" Shaggy promises. "But, like, for now we want to keep entertainin' ya with our wonderful jokes, but maybe it's time to try our juggling act!"

Fred and Daphne approach Velma and Jordie, who are watching on the side of the stage with grim, solemn faces; they both look as though they're watching an animal suffering in pain and are helpless to intervene.

"Okay, we won't make the audience suffer any longer!" Fred declares as he and Daphne approach their friends. Instantly, Velma and Jordie whirl around to face them, and Jordie's face floods with relief.

"Oh my God, you're here!" Jordie cries, hugging both Fred and Daphne at once. "I'm going to make the announcement so we can get the show on the road; I think we'll have a mutiny on our hands if we wait another minute."

Jordie doesn't wait for a response as he walks onto the stage just as Shaggy and Scooby begin to juggle four plastic balls, all of which slip out of their hands and scatter somewhere into the audience. He grabs the microphone off the stand and exclaims, "All right, that marks the end of our opening performance; let's give a round of applause to Shaggy and Scooby!"

Stifled and indifferent clapping sprinkles through the audience, and Shaggy and Scooby frown and stomp off stage; the second they clock Fred and Daphne standing beside Velma, however, their eyes instantly gleam, lighting up with relief over seeing their friends safe before them.

"Like, zoinks! Fred, Daphne, thank goodness you're here!" Shaggy shrills as he and Scooby hug them both. His eyes narrow as he glances back at the stage, where Jordie stands, preparing to announce Daphne as the next performer. "Like, break a leg; I'm tellin' ya though, this is one tough crowd!"

"Everyone, here is the moment you've all been waiting for; please give it up for Goose Lake's next performer, Daphne Blake!" Jordie yells, and immediately he's drowned out by the sound of screams and yells piercing the air. The "We want Fred and Daphne!" chants circulate through the crowd again, and Daphne offers her friends one more grin.

"Well, guess it's all me now," Daphne sighs. "Um, break a leg, Fred."

Fred merely nods in response, adhering to the formal, more rigid manner he and Daphne partook in before they spoke late last night so as to throw his friends off their trail. Daphne marches onto the stage and waves full heartedly at the crowd, who somehow shrill and shriek even louder than before.

"So, like, now that Daph's gone, are you gonna tell us where you two have been?!" Shaggy turns to Fred abruptly.

"Yes, Freddy, the last time I saw you both, you were standing outside our hotel room and you insisted on talking to Daphne, and no one has seen either of you since then; it sure is odd," Velma muses. "Would you care to enlighten us?"

Fred stalls by watching Daphne as she waves away Jordie's offer to play the guitar for her, and he doesn't miss the bewildered expression that washes over Jordie's face; they had arranged for him to play the instruments for Daphne since she and Fred had split, but now that Fred was joining her on stage in a surprising twist in a few short minutes, she would no longer be needing his assistance. It's obvious that Jordie is confused and even slightly worried about the lack of instrumental music based on the furrow that steeps his forehead, but in the end he nods and exits onto the opposite side of the stage.

"Hi everyone!" Daphne speaks into the microphone, and the crowd goes absolutely crazy once more. Fred notices Erica sandwiched between two of her friends in the front row, and for the first time since they've arrived, she looks absolutely carefree; her long blue hair is released from its usual tight ponytail, and she's wearing a crochet crop top and denim shorts. When Daphne speaks, Erica cups her hands around her mouth and cheers, and Fred beams; of all the people in the audience, Erica deserves to have the most fun after everything she's endured with her father these past several weeks. Whenever Fred remembers how the gang pushed to jail Erica, albeit briefly, his stomach roils and creaks, threatening to turn in on itself; Erica might have been an enthusiastic fan, but she would have never purposely sabotaged her father's show, and Fred wishes he had trusted her when she first insisted that as Officer Bradford locked her in handcuffs.

"Like, Fred, hello, is anyone home?" Shaggy waves his hand in front of Fred's face. "We, like, asked ya what happened with Daph."

"Yeah, did you guys talk?" Velma hedges.

"This first song is from _Talent Star_ ; maybe you all know it," Daphne's voice is clear and crisp as it reverberates out of the monitors, and as soon as she mentions _Talent Star_ , the crowd erupts a third time. Fred instinctively grabs his guitar, which is leaning against its case nearby, and slings it over his shoulder, waiting for his cue.

"Well, we did talk, but there's not a whole lot I can say about that right now," Fred finally acknowledges his friends, attempting to be as vague as possible with his answer.

"WHAT?! But you spent, like, what, twelve hours together?! How did you _still_ avoid tellin' her how you feel about her, man?" Shaggy squawks.

Velma shakes her head disapprovingly, like a disappointed teacher.

"Honestly, Freddy, I don't feel sorry for either of you at this rate!" she says, rolling her eyes.

"Well, like, what are you even waitin' for then, man?" Shaggy asks.

Fred pauses as Daphne leans into the microphone and begins singing, and the second her voice filters through the speaker, his bone marrow throbs and the breath is snatched from his lungs; he wondered how it would work for her to sing with absolutely no instruments to support her for the first half of the song, but the crowd is entranced, as though they've been placed under a magical spell. Fred can definitely relate; he feels the same way every time he hears her sing.

_"Rain storm over the ocean / sunshine after the rain / clouds rise up from the water / nature's endless chain."_

Fred's head is suddenly spinning as his bloodstream absorbs a giddy, light and effervescent sensation. It's amazing how far he and Daphne have come in a full week; it was just nine days ago that _Talent Star_ ended in the first kiss, and even though they hit a few bumps and snags between now and then, he'll drive away tomorrow without the shadowy dread barreling down upon him because the "what-if's" and "if-only's" whirling around in his head will finally be still.

 _"The world keeps on spinning / From day_ _to the night…."_

Fred's spine tingles with apprehension; he is due to enter the song and start playing alongside Daphne just before she hits the chorus. In the final moments leading up to his entrance, just before Fred steps onto the stage and exposes his soul before all of Goose Lake, Fred offers his friends one last demure smile and a shrug.

"You asked what I'm waiting for, Shag," Fred says evenly, eyeing Daphne as she turns just slightly in his direction, anticipating his arrival. "Well, I guess I was just waiting for the perfect moment."

_"From season to season / From darkness to light."_

And then before Velma or Shaggy or Scooby can question him further, Fred reaches out and grasps the perfect moment before it can slip through his fingers once again; he's finished with overthinking and letting time swivel down the drain. Daphne pauses as the verse dies on her lips, and without missing a beat, Fred strums the first few notes of their song off stage before he begins stepping towards her. It's as though Fred has struck a match and tossed it onto a forest of trees; instantly, the crowd explodes into fiery applause and cheers at the sight of Fred moving towards Daphne as though he is magnetized by her and he can't even resist her, even if he tried.

 _"Our lives keep evolving, through hope and despair / I can take all the changes, knowing you're there_."

Fred holds Daphne's gaze the entire time as he sings, hoping she sees the sincerity of the lyrics burning in his eyes so she never questions how he feels about her ever again. He shivers when Daphne maintains his gaze, and when her eyes shine bright with the same vivid emotion as Fred's, he feels as though he's crumbling, splintering right before the thousands of screaming fans.

_"We're like the rivers, that join at the sea / Knowing that you'll be there / Is enough for me."_

As the final few notes fade away into the ether, Fred and Daphne float closer and closer to each other, erasing the already minimal gap between them as the thunderous applause builds louder and louder in Fred's ears, and then, just as when he kissed her last week during _Talent Star_ , it all becomes muted background noise when they meet halfway and press their lips together; all the colors and noises and shapes and sounds fade into a charcoal oblivion because it's just him and Daphne together in this moment. As Fred kisses Daphne, he wonders if it will be like this every single time: if every kiss will make him smile against her lips, if every kiss will make him see an explosion of coruscating fireworks inside his head, if every kiss will make his knees quiver and unleash a flurry of hummingbirds fluttering in his stomach. And when he pulls away from Daphne and catches her beaming at him as the afternoon sun illuminates her face, making it appear as though the light is shining inside of her, that's when Fred knows for certain that every single kiss will indeed be as earth-shattering as the very first one.

The second they pull away, blushing, Fred's senses slam back into him and he's hit with a wave of overwhelmingly supportive, enthusiastic applause. He catches Erica sobbing and screeching, "I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT! FRAPHNE FOR LIFE," and out of the corner of his eye, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby all stare with their mouths rounded and their eyebrows raised; it was definitely the satisfying reaction Fred was hoping to receive after all this time.

"Wow guys, that was truly amazing! I think we all had a feeling that they were going to end up together though, right Goose Lake?"

Fred and Daphne turn towards the side of the stage, facing the person who has abruptly interrupted the moment. Striding towards them is a tall, sleek man wearing black jeans and black boots paired with a leather jacket, and his wavy dark hair frames his handsome face. Before Fred can speak into the microphone and address this newcomer, the crowd comes unglued, going even more apeshit than they have all afternoon, which is something Fred hadn't even thought was possible before now. Fred and Daphne exchange bewildered expressions; apparently, they may not know this mystery man, but the audience sure does.

The man raises the microphone he is holding and grins at Fred and Daphne.

"Right, thanks to Fred and Daphne and the rest of Mystery Incorporated taking care of that crazy Goose Lake Monster, I hope it's all right that we reinstate ourselves for the Goose Lake Concert!" the man throws the audience a smile, all straight white teeth and charm, and Fred notices a young woman swoon in the front row. "I'm Matt Healy, and my band The 1975 are ready to play for you fine folks today!"

The remaining members of The 1975 pour onto the stage, cool and sharp as razors as they take their positions on stage and plug guitars into amps and adjust microphones. Matt Healy shakes hands with Fred and Daphne, who remain rooted in place, starstruck.

"Sorry if we stole your thunder; would it be all right if we play next?" Matt asks.

"Oh, uh, no problem!" Fred beams. "Actually, it would be nice for us to be a fan in the audience after all we've been through this week. Whaddaya say, Daph?"

"Are you kidding?! Of course we would love to watch you!" Daphne shrills.

"Right then!" Matt exclaims, turning to face the crowd. "Goose Lake, please give a hearty thanks to Fred and Daphne! In true Goose Lake Concert fashion, we're moving right into the next set with no pauses in between the next few bands, so I hope you enjoy what we have planned for you today!"

Fred and Daphne bow as more applause rains upon them, and as soon as the guitarist begins strumming the band starts in like a tsunami. Fred laces his hand in Daphne's and leads her off stage, towards their friends, who are waiting with wide grins and flushed faces.

"That was, like, awesome!" Shaggy yelps, high-fiving both Fred and Daphne. "You guys sounded great!"

"Yeah, and it seems you did indeed find the time to talk last night, huh?" Velma teases with a gleam in her eye.

"Yeah, we definitely, ah, _talked_ ," Daphne giggles. Velma narrows her eyes at Daphne suspiciously, but before she can vocalize a single question, Fred interrupts, pink-faced at Daphne's subtle jab.

"Hey, uh, what was Matt talking about when he mentioned the next few bands?" Fred asks. "And how did they even get here? I thought everyone bailed because of the monster?"

"They did," Velma replies. "But then a bunch of the bands called this morning and asked if they could still play; they saw that we caught the Goose Lake Monster on the news and realized it was safe again, so they made a last minute plan to help us all out today."

"We, like, tried to tell ya, but you ignored our calls all morning," Shaggy points out.

"Gee, wonder why it is that you were so preoccupied _all morning_ ," Velma smirks, causing Fred and Daphne to blush and giggle nervously.

"Ah yeah Velm, I guess time just really got away from us, huh?" Daphne stammers before she smiles brightly. "But hey, let's go enjoy this concert; I think we all deserve a break after this week that we've had!"

Fred interweaves his hand in Daphne's again and leads her and the rest of his friends into the audience, planting themselves next to Erica in the front row, who squeals and throws her arms around both Fred and Daphne when they approach her. The gang spend the next eight hours rooted in that same spot while The 1975 and the eight bands that proceed them thunder, soar, and bleed through their setlists, and true to the original Goose Lake concert, there isn't even a single second that breathes in between bands. Fred is deliriously happy, drunk off the summer day and high off the laughter of his friends and the great music and Daphne. Every few minutes, Fred looks at Daphne and feels his heart swell when he clocks her expression; she looks absolutely euphoric, as though a symphony of colors is cascading over her. When she catches Fred staring at her and giggles before pulling him to her side and pressing a kiss to his cheek, a liquid-pastel purple filters through his veins; it's the same vibrant lilac as a bouquet of flowers, the same comforting purple as the shade of happiness, the same violet that wraps around him like an embrace whenever he hears her sing.

And when he cups her face in his hands and leans in for another kiss, relishing the way Daphne smiles against his mouth once again, Fred realizes that he has never seen a more beautiful color in his entire life.

* * *

"Are you sure that you guys have to go already? You could stay a few more days at our campground, free of charge!"

Erica pouts, leaning into the Mystery Machine as Fred situates himself behind the steering wheel. It's the afternoon after the concert, and Fred and Erica are talking in the hotel parking lot where the gang have been staying these past few days. The gang have been piling the van with their luggage and preparing to head into the next town for their next case; Velma received an email late last night beckoning them for help, so they were already looking towards their next mystery in Tennessee.

"Thanks for the offer Erica, but we better get going!" Fred replies. "Thanks again for having Daph and I perform in the show; we had a blast!"

"Oh God, it's you guys Daddy and I should be thanking! Not only did you save our concert when you volunteered to play even though the monster was around, but you guys managed to stop Elliott and Sid," Erica exclaims. "And now that the monster is gone, our campground finally has visitors again, so Daddy and I will be in business for a long time!"

"I'm really glad," Fred says sincerely, his voice warm. "And seriously, I'm glad we could help with the show; do you think you guys will be able to have another one next summer?"

"Are you kidding? It was a huge hit!" Erica beams. "The feedback was so great, we decided to make this an annual tradition for as long as people are interested. I can't believe we were so close to cancelling just a few days ago!"

Fred experiences the same elation that permeates the end of every mystery; he feels weightless, as though he'll drift away into the sky. Solving mysteries and building traps and catching the "guy in the mask" are just like kissing Daphne; it's endlessly gratifying and spine-tingling, no matter how many times it occurs.

Erica clears her throat, jarring Fred out of his reverie.

"Um, Fred, I just wanted to apologize one more time if I made you and Daphne uncomfortable. I know I didn't do myself any favors by being the image of a crazed fan, especially when Sid framed me, but even disregarding that, I felt awful when you told me the Fraphne nickname made you feel awkward and that you worried it was hurting what you had with Daphne. I wouldn't want to do anything that would make either of you feel badly," Erica speaks in a rush, her face blooming crimson red.

If Erica had said all of this just a few days ago, Fred would have responded differently, but now that he and Daphne are officially together, the apology feels out of place, unnecessary.

"Erica, you have no reason to apologize," Fred smiles. "I should not have overreacted the way I did when I saw you; I was just so terrified that Daphne didn't love me the way I loved her, and I was worried the nickname would make her turn against me. And there was a happy ending that came out of this whole thing, and I think it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you. Every single thing that happened this week, while stressful at the time, lead to me being with Daphne, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Erica is fluorescent, glowing from the inside out.

"Can I have a hug before you leave?" she asks, to which Fred happily obliges, stepping out of the car to embrace her warmly.

"Thanks again for everything, Erica," Fred says as he climbs back into the van. "And if you guys want, Daph and I will perform again next year; just give us a call!"

"Oh, definitely!" Erica's eyes suddenly gleam mischievously. "Hey, if you decide to propose one day, I wouldn't complain if you did it on stage during one of our concerts so I could see it! I would die of happiness!"

Fred coughs and sputters as though he's choking on an ice cube that's lodged in his throat.

"Uh, well, we'll see, uh," he stutters, his face flushed deeper than when he stared at the Fraphne fan art. Maybe one day he wouldn't get flustered so easily, but that was not today.

Fred and Erica wave goodbye one final time, and Fred turns his attention to the Mystery Machine, plugging the address into the GPS for their next destination and mentally planning any stops for food and gas along the way. He's so engrossed in prepping for their road trip that he doesn't even notice Daphne slip silkily into the passenger seat until she leans over and pecks him on the cheek.

"Oh, hey Daph," Fred grins as a blush rises to his face; even an innocent kiss on the face makes him light-headed and giddy as a schoolboy. "Sorry, I didn't see you there; I was just getting the Mystery Machine ready for the road!"

Daphne smiles, but her gaze appears distant; she looks absent-minded, distracted.

"Hey," Fred wraps his arm around her shoulder and tugs her against him, savoring the whiff of apricot shampoo she uses for her hair. "Sweetheart, is everything okay?"

"Um," Daphne bites her lips. "So, I did a thing…"

Fred raises his eyebrows.

"A thing? You did a thing? What are you talking about?" Fred asks.

A smile slowly spreads across Daphne's face as she reaches for her pocket, retrieving her phone. Fred watches as her fingers fly across the screen, pulling up the internet and navigating towards some website with a name he doesn't catch. She shifts slightly, concealing the screen, which piques Fred's interest. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait long before she hands him the phone and instructs, "Read the most recent comment."

Fred hitches an eyebrow in confusion and looks at her phone. His throat immediately constricts and the breath traps in his throat when he notes the website domain: _DeviantArt_. To add to his curiosity, the original fan art he found of him and Daphne kissing on _Talent Star_ is maximized on the screen, with the same thread of comments posted underneath the image from the other night.

"I don't get it," Fred ponders out loud. "I already saw this; why did you want me to see it again?"

"The most recent comment, underneath ScoobyDoobyDoo – read it," Daphne responds, jabbing the screen to indicate where Fred should start reading.

Fred shrugs and rereads ScoobyDoobyDoo's scathing remark: _"Yeah, this is beautiful and I loved it and all, but does anyone else get the sense that this is as far as Fred and Daphne will ever take things? Or worse yet, maybe it was all for show?"_ Even though he's read it before, and even in spite of the fact that Fred knows for certain now that he and Daphne are genuinely in love, the comment still makes him feel as though a boa constrictor is wrapping around his torso, robbing him of air. But when he notices a comment threaded beneath that was definitely not there the other night, Fred's heart stills in his chest.

A user named TheRealDaphneBlake has replied, and their comment states: "Oh yeah, shows what you know. Fred and Daphne didn't kiss 'just for show;' they kissed because they're madly in love. Oh, and they took things wayyy farther than this in the back of the Mystery Machine, so suck it ;)"

Fred blinks, dumbstruck; how does this random user know what he and Daphne did in the back of the Mystery Machine?! And what made the user vehemently attest to the fact that they're truly in love? He turns to Daphne with a thousand questions racing through his head, but one look at Daphne answers them all in an instant.

"Oh. My. God," Fred breathes. "This was _you?!_ "

Daphne shrugs and smiles sweetly.

"Guilty as charged!" she replies as she rests her head on Fred's shoulder and sighs contentedly. "I know that comment really stung you, so I figured I would get in one final dig."

Fred wraps his arms around Daphne's waist and pulls her in for a deep passionate kiss so quickly that Daphne doesn't react immediately, but it takes her just a second to recover and fall completely into the kiss. Just as she parts her lips and snakes her hand under his shirt, eliciting a groan from Fred, the sound of the Mystery Machine's back door swinging open penetrates the moment, causing them to fly apart from each other as though they've been struck by lightning.

Unfortunately, based on how Shaggy stares at them as though he's seen a ghost, they didn't part fast enough.

"ZOINKS!" Shaggy screeches, jolting with shock as Scooby dives beneath the passenger seat and covers his eyes. "Like, Daph, Freddy, we really are happy you guys are together now, but like, maybe you could make it so we don't walk in on, uh, _that_ so often? We would like, really appreciate it."

"Sorry, Shag," Fred and Daphne mumble, their cheeks scarlet.

"What's going on in here?" Velma asks as she yanks the side door open and crawls into the backseat. "Why are Shaggy and Scooby screaming?"

"I caught Fred and Daph like, goin' at it!" Shaggy exclaims at the same time that Fred cries, "Don't worry about it, Velma!"

Velma's shoulder shake with suppressed laughter.

"Jinkies, maybe things were better before you two finally talked and told each other how you feel," Velma muses.

"Ha ha, laugh it up," Daphne bites back.

Luckily, Jordie and Erica approach the Mystery Machine, saving Fred and Daphne from further embarrassment.

"You guys, I just wanted to thank you all once again," Jordie chirps. "Not only did you save my show, but you saved our campground from Elliott and Sid! I never would have imagined they were the ones behind the Goose Lake Monster persona. If there is any way we can repay you, please do not hesitate to tell me!"

"Oh Jordie, Erica, it was our pleasure," Daphne beams.

"Yeah! Mysteries are what we do best," Velma adds.

"Like, if they wanna repay us, I wouldn't, like, mind some free food or – "

Velma cut Shaggy off with a venomous glare.

"Seriously Jordie, we're just happy we could help," Fred answers. "Call us if you guys ever need anything again!"

A chorus of "good-byes" and "drive-safe" fill the air, and the gang wave at Jordie and Erica as Fred starts the Mystery Machine and guides the van onto the main road. Once they're a few miles out of town, Fred is struck with an idea.

"Hey, we have to pass through the tunnel one more time on our way to the next town," he tells Daphne. "Do you think the driving songs work during the daytime?"

Daphne grins, and Fred feels himself melt at the excitement that splashes her pretty features.

"I guess there's only one way to find out!" she declares as she grabs her cell phone and pulls up her Spotify playlist.

Velma furrows her eyebrows together.

"What are you two talking about up there?" she asks.

"Oh, it's a long story, Velm," Daphne looks at Fred and smiles as though they're exchanging a secret or an inside joke that exists only between them, and Fred's heart beats like a hummingbird's wings. As he merges onto the freeway, he eyes the beautiful girl next to him who is scrolling through her playlist, biting her lips as she concentrates. He and Daphne and the rest of the gang would always be detectives who sought the high of a thrilling mystery, but one thing that would never remain a mystery was Fred's feelings for Daphne, and the vast amount of love he felt towards her.

And when Fred sees the gaping mouth of the tunnel rushing towards them and feels Daphne lace her hand through his, he realizes the true mystery is how he survived a single day of his life before he met Daphne.

But that's a case that he'll have to solve another day.

**THE END**


End file.
